Author's note: Wow, only a few days left until the season premiere …. And I know that I will be desperately waiting for Jenna to show up any moment :S Sorry for not updating sooner. Sadly, real life gets in the way of fun stuff sometimes :P

Hope you'll like it :)

Chapter 5

Damon turned the napkin clockwise, and then counterclockwise, as if looking for a better angle, his brows drawn together and the line between them deep with thought. Also, he looked pissed off, mostly because he was curious but the answer wasn't right before him, bright and clear, which almost made Ric sneer. He could practically hear the wheels in the vampire's head turn, and under any other circumstances he wouldn't lose his chance to throw some witty quip at Damon. If only it wasn't for the life and death situation…

"What the hell is this thing?" Damon asked at last tilting his head to his shoulder, his eyes all but burning through the napkin, making Alaric wonder if he could eliminate his problem simply by throwing it into the fire.

"I don't know," he took a sip of bourbon and scanned the ballroom again. "I thought it was Celtic at first but something was off with it, so it's—it's not. And not Runic either. You sure you hadn't seen anything like that before? I mean you've been around a while."

"Doesn't mean I spent my time at the libraries." Damon's frown deepened. He turned and studied Ric thoughtfully, considering. "Who was that guy, anyway?" Alaric arched an eyebrow in a Really? Damon rolled his eyes. "Did he introduce himself?"

"No, he was too busy beating me up."

"Well, did you ask?"

"No, Damon, I was too busy being beaten up. Sadly, it took all of my attention."

The vampire sneakered. "In my days, the formalities were a must."

"Well then, in that case we can say for sure that he is either not that old, or not that mannered. I'm certain it narrows down the search." Alaric sighed and rubbed his eyes. His head was starting to throb from too much buzz and chatter around them mixed with plaintive music and all the jewelry that sparkled blindingly in the light of crystal chandeliers. "I am sure we will have a chance to have a proper conversation in a couple of days when he comes back to rip my guts out," he added dryly, flinching at the prospect, and added it to his mental to-do list – grade the World War II essays, buy milk, get killed. "He said, however, that Isobel took something from someone. And that someone is not happy."

"Took – as in, stole?"

Alaric moved his shoulders vaguely in a half-shrug. "First thing that comes to mind." He took the napkin from Damon – seeing as to how the vampire was of no help in deciphering the symbol – and put into the inner pocket of his jacket. "So, Isobel didn't mention anything—" he faltered. "Hell, Damon, I don't know! Maybe she was asking questions or…" he trailed off, running out of ideas, frustrated.

It wasn't like Damon was his last resort, he still had a few days and a couple of ideas to check, but he was putting quite a lot of hope in something the vampire could know, perhaps. Yet, he didn't, and Alaric was back to square, which wasn't the brightest of realizations – assuming that his life had an expiry date that was all but tattooed on his forehead.

"No heart-to-hearts, sorry." Damon downed his drink. "Strictly business." He patted Alaric on the back. "Don't worry, Ric. We'll figure it out."

"It's not that I am worried about," Alaric said grimly.

"And if we don't, I'll take care of a perfect epitaph for you," Damon added enthusiastically.

Ric ignored him though, fingers flexing on his empty glass. "Who do you think sent him? This man, I mean… He looked like a pawn." His eyes fixed on Elijah who was talking to Carol Lockwood and an elderly gentleman in a beige suit across the room. A picture perfect. "What did Isobel take? And who is looking for it now?"

Damon followed his glance. "You know, this guy almost deserved being smoldered to ashes by your glares." He noted.

Thank God, was the first thought that crossed Alaric's mind when the crowd finally started to file out of the Founders' Hall. He let out a relieved sigh and scanned the ballroom, glad that torturous hours of hiding in the corner and avoiding eye contact with anyone who looked even remotely familiar were finally over. He should have left hours ago, Alaric told himself and flinched inwardly. He had his own crap to deal with – a lot of crap, in fact, that required some concentration and thorough thinking. Instead, he chose to lurk here and steal occasional glances at Jenna when he was sure she was looking somewhere else lest she thought he was stalking her or something. Which was exactly what he'd been doing.

She was laughing and chatting with people he didn't know, a chime of a sound that was cutting through him like a knife, and making a damn good impression of enjoying herself. But all Alaric could do was wonder if the others could also see the tired lines around her eyes, caused probably by lack of proper sleep and feel overall weariness emanating from her, or if it was his personal privilege. Jenna didn't want him there and she made it pretty clear, she didn't even look his way once after that awkward encounter hours ago, but for some reason he was still reluctant to leave her alone, as if saying I'm still here for you.

It was good to see her. Just knowing that she was there, even if her smile wasn't for him anymore – it was better than nothing at all. Not to mention the fact that he had no idea when their paths would cross again, seeing as to how the communication was an issue right now. The thought was dreadful, making Alaric almost want for this nightmarish evening to never end.

"Ready?" The voice asked on the other side of the damned tree he was using as a shied, and the sound of it made his ears perk. He would've recognized John Gilbert even if he was dead perhaps, Alaric thought, as his knuckled itched to introduce themselves to the bastard's face. His jaw twitched and he actually contemplated the possibility for a moment or two.

"Yeah," it was Jeremy who responded if a little distractedly, and Ric saw his shaggy hair when he peeked between the leaves and branches.

"Good. Where's Jenna?"

"She's going to stay for a while," Elena said, and added, "Apparently, Mrs. Lockwood asked for her help. Someone will give her a ride later."

"Okay, let's go then."

In his shelter, Alaric frowned. Sudden alarm went off inside of him even before the suspicion formed fully in his mind.

Mrs. Lockwood? As in, Carol Lockwood? The one he'd seen leaving ten minutes ago? She didn't look like she needed any help, and she definitely didn't look like she was coming back to appreciate it. And since when Jenna was her side-kick, anyway?

And it was then when he spotted a familiar honey-colored mane across the room…

To say that her whole life flashed before her eyes was a huge understatement. For a moment, Jenna felt completely and utterly paralyzed with horror. Her heart leaped up and got stuck somewhere in her throat and was thudding so hard she was feeling dizzy and weak, and she thought she'd actually collapse if whoever was holding her suddenly let go as she was saying mental goodbyes to everyone she could think of. Not that she could think properly, period.

It wasn't her imagination then, she actually did hear someone open the door…

Boy, I'm screwed, was the first coherent thought that popped up in Jenna's mind, and then the panic truly kicked in, making her break in cold sweat.

Which happened a mere moment before a very familiar voice whispered into her ear, "Please, don't scream. It's me."

And then the hold on her was gone.

Jenna whirled around, stepped back, got tangled in the drapes and took her time to untangle herself back, feeling as ungraceful as it was possible as she clutched at thick folds for support – all under Alaric's gaze as he watched her maneuvers patiently.

"Jesus, Ric!" She hissed, pushing her hair out of her face, frustrated by the weakness in her knees that she chose to write off to the adrenaline rush caused by the hear heart-attacked and not… something else, not quite sure yet if she was angry or relieved that it was him and not someone else. "You scared hell out of me! What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" He hissed back, taking a small step closer, his eyes flaring up in the dark. "What are you doing here?"

"It's none of your business," she snapped. "Go away!"

"Not until you explain to me what the hell you're up to, sneaking around like… that," his gaze swept over her frame and fixed pointedly on her pumps lying on the floor.

For a long moment, Jenna simply stared at him, her heart still beating fast for the reasons she didn't want to go into. She was on a mission, kind of. She had to stay focused and concentrated, do her thing and get out of there before someone noticed something.

And how on earth was she supposed to be focused and concentrated with Alaric around, in the dark room, standing so close that she could catch a fine whiff of his cologne? The very one she got for him a few weeks ago, she noted. She found it when strolling lazily through the shops and boutiques downtown with Elena in search of new shoes and couldn't resist buying it because she loved the smell. Unsurprisingly, she found out later that she especially like it on him. And now her insides coiled as her mind came to the verge of exploding with all these memories she fought to keep locked away for a while. God, it was just too much.

Jenna swallowed hard and nearly took a step back, so not up to dealing with any of this right now. And it was so quiet suddenly, and the air around was electrified… as if the sparkles were going to fly around them any moment.

She bent to snatch her pumps from the floor then and stomped towards the patio door, deliberately keeping as much distance from him as she could and looking straight ahead. "Fine, then I will leave." Which sounded petulant and 5-year-oldish, perhaps. Not that she cared. Screw her plans – all she needed and wanted was to get out of there and as far away from Alaric Saltzman as Mystic Falls would allow.

Furious at him for getting in her business… and at herself for not wanting him to stop, Jenna yanked the handle… but nothing happened. She frowned and wiggled it again. What the—

The glass rattled, but the door didn't give in. It was clearly locked.

"Did you do it?" She demanded, turning back to Alaric. "Did you lock it?"

Frowning as well, he crossed the nuisance of a distance between them and tried the door too, neatly sidestepping her away from it.

"Of course I did it," he muttered under his breath without looking at her. "The way you hate me already is not enough to make my life complete, Jenna, so getting myself trapped with you somewhere seemed like that right thing to do to make it even more fun."

It caught her off-guard, and thick, poorly masked pain hiding behind sarcasm all but knocked all air out of her lungs and made her freeze to a spot for a few moments as her mind tried to wrap around what he had said – with little success.

She did take half a step back when Alaric finally turned to her, tired and somewhat world weary, and obviously not liking the whole entrapment thing any better than she did if the rigid line of his shoulders and tight set of his jaw were any indication, making her wonder despite better judgment, despite herself, if there even was a chance for things to get better between them. Someday. Somehow. Right now, all these issues and unspoken words were piling on top of them like stones, burying them both under their weight. And standing there, looking at each other in silence, they could both feel this weight crashing them, making even the sound of their breathing too loud and out of place.

Why them, Jenna thought desperately. Why did it have to happen to them? Did they do something wrong? Something that made powers-that-be put them through all of this? She could almost hear them saying: Hey, look, they've been happy for the whole five minutes already! Time for a shit-load of trouble! Someone, grab the pop-corn, the show's gonna be fun!

That was exactly how she saw it happening, not merely surprised.

"Maybe the lock jammed," Alaric said quietly before letting go of the handle. "Or maybe they lock the whole place up for the night."

He looked away then, and Jenna's shoulders sagged a little. She didn't even realize how tense she was under his gaze. Of all people to find her here… she didn't have enough champagne to take it with dignity. Her head was spinning. Did he—did he really think she hated him? Did he think she could?

Oh God, how did they end like that?

She opened her mouth to say something – anything! – but the words died on her tongue. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she would never be able to hate him but her own wound was too fresh and deep to go into comforting the person that cut it open in the first place.

Jenna shook her head, trying to get her thoughts together somehow. It wasn't the secrets that hurt the most. It wasn't even the fact that everyone she ever cared about had been lying to her her entire life. No, it was more the fact that none of them considered her worthy of knowing. That Ric didn't think she was worthy of the truth. She'd spent the last few days thinking about it almost non-stop, and it still wasn't making much sense. Instead, it was making her feel useless and endlessly dumb. How could she possibly not see that something was wrong? Was she really that blind? Or maybe it was about not wanting to see?

Okay, she had a few moments in life when she had to question her judgments and opinions. In fact, she had more of them than she would like to admit. But it felt so different with Alaric. He felt so different. So how exactly was she supposed to wrap her mind around the fact that only a few days ago he was her everything and now they were nothing but strangers? How could something that she thought was so solid, so right, turn into nothing and fall apart right before her eyes?

She missed him badly in every possible way, and looking back at the times they'd spent together was agonizingly painful. If anything, he was her best friend. The only person in the whole wide world that she felt completely comfortable and open with. Ever. Someone she truly believed she could always turn to, no matter what, and he'd be there just like she knew she'd be there for him because that was how it worked, right?

It was even scarier how at some point she started to believe that he'd always be there, how she thought she'd always have that shoulder to lean on in times of crisis, a wall that would shield her from the storm. Funny how one minute she was a cynical grad student with a history of unfortunate relationships, and then – bam! – Alaric stepped in and turned her world upside down, and made her lose her sleep because for once the reality got much better than any dreams. But now there she was, in the middle of the worst crisis imaginable, and the only wall in close proximity was the one between them, thick and tall, and what was truly killing Jenna on the inside was that she couldn't see the way to get over it.

"Well, there's another door," she breathed out, more out of wish to break the pressing silence than anything, feeling drained all of a sudden, and more than willing to send everything to hell and just go home and curl into a ball of misery under the blankets, and will her tears to wash away the pain.

Yes, she was a mature, serious grown-up with two teenagers to take care of and a bucket-load of responsibilities to think about. But it would still be there in the morning. Today? Today she was just too tired to make it work. Chances were, said teenagers were safe and sound in their beds by now anyway.

Alaric let out a subtle breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Yeah, well done, great job. And since when Let's go and fuck up everything even more was a part of the plan, again? He, of all people, had absolutely no right to blame Jenna for anything because she, of all people, had every right to hate his guts until the end of his pathetic life. She was mad and she was hurt, and he had no words to make it better if only because he already was months late with what had to be said from the start. In fact, he was rather surprised Jenna was talking to him at all – instead of throwing chairs at him or something. And maybe it would be better if she actually did, Alaric thought ruefully. It would be better if she was openly angry instead of looking endlessly hurt.

God, if only he could just hold her! If only he could feel her warmth against his body. If only he could tell her how much he loved her and how sorry he was – for putting her through this, for keeping things from her, even for the very fact that the vampires existed. If only she'd let him.

But there was no comfort in the darkness, not anymore. There was no comfort in the truth. And there was fear deep in her eyes. Not of the vampires. Not of the shadows that were no longer safe, but of the pain, of having her world shattered all over again, of probably having to question and doubt every single thing she'd hear from now on, of always expecting to be lied to, of betrayal. And he couldn't help hating with passion every single bit of himself for being the cause of it, for breaking her in a way that could never be restored completely. And he didn't know how to live with it. With it and without her.

All he did know, though, was that he was in no position to feel sorry for himself. If anything, he got what he deserved. And it felt comforting in a way, fair even. Unlike that time when he'd learned the truth about Isobel and was wondering for months what exactly he'd been punished for. The only answer back then was making no sense – his only fault, apparently, was loving her too much.

Alaric knew he had to stop getting in Jenna's way, stop thinking he had any right to keep doing it. She told him earlier that he had no say in her life anymore, and it was true. Unfortunately, it didn't mean he could simply turn it off and stop caring – hell, he never would. And he knew he'd do her a favor by walking away and leaving her alone. But he was scared – scared of losing the only thing worth living for, the only connection he had to what was real, important. Yet, she was walking away, taking the light with her, and Alaric could feel it already – the darkness that started to take over him, the one he was too tired to fight.

Jenna was half-way through the room, maneuvering her way between the furniture in the dark when his ears perked and they both froze. A string of footsteps echoed outside, and then, as if in a slow-motion replay, the door knob started to turn.

Acting purely on instinct and more out of feeling of self-preservation than anything else, he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her sideways until they were back behind the curtain again, and before Jenna knew, she was pressed against the wall with the weight of his body, barely able to breathe for so many damned reasons. And oddly, the sound of the voices only a few feet away from them was down at the bottom of the list. Alaric's heartbeat against her chest and his eyes glinting in the moonlight filtering through the patio doors, however, were another case entirely. At least for a while.

Jenna swallowed hard and opened her mouth but Alaric pressed his fingers to her lips, keeping her silent. The hinges creaked and someone pushed the door open. Her breath hitched in her throat as she waited for the same someone to come up and draw the curtain away any moment.

Busted.

"What is it, Frank?" The voice came from behind the curtain, making them both go completely still.

"Nothing," a reluctant reply came shortly. "I thought I heard—never mind. No one's here."

The lock clicked again as the door closed and the silence reigned again interrupted only by their heavy forced breathing and the antique clock on the mantelpiece. She kept her eyes locked on his, her head spinning from champagne and adrenaline rush, making it really hard to think. Period. Alaric's body was hot and strong against her, and so close that she could see dark-grey rim around the blue irises of his eyes and feel bourbon on his breath. And everything inside of her ached.

They waited for a few agonizingly long minutes before the commotion outside in the corridor finally started to fade. Finally, Alaric drew back slowly, his gaze holding hers for a few more seconds as his fingers fell from her lips, and it was only then that Jenna realized she was hardly breathing at all, too… overwhelmed on so many levels. Ric craned his neck and then stepped from behind the curtain when he was sure the horizon was clear.

Her head felt funny – all light and foggy, and her entire body was vibrant with adrenaline coursing through her system. And now that there were these safe five feet between them, Jenna took her chance to take a couple of steadying breaths as she fought to ignore the lingering scent of him that seemed to cloud her head, making the world spin around her like a carousel.

It hit her then, pretty much like a bucked of ice-cold water poured onto her head, and she crossed the room in a few swift strides and wiggled the door knob.

"Damn it!"

"What?" Alaric asked, alarmed, as he followed her.

"Locked," she breathed out and carefully tried it again. No result. Great.

"The decided not to take chances," he supposed solemnly beside her.

She leaned against the door for a moment, trying to hear what was going on outside past her insanely escalated heartbeat that was practically crashing her eardrums. Oh, okay… think, just think. This was so crazy! What if they got caught? She could have been related to one of the founding families but sneaking around like that definitely qualified as trespassing – perhaps – and Jenna somehow doubted the police would study her family tree if she and Ric ended up in a cell.

He was still standing beside her and watching the door, she could see it out of the corner of her eye, the outline of his profile the only pale spot in near complete darkness, and she let the corners of her mouth tug up a little unable to control it or hold it back. All this crazy confusion and helpless anger aside, she couldn't help feeling relieved to have him here, which, she knew, was a reflex more than anything. Endless stupidity and total lack of self-preservation, if you please. Even if she wasn't completely willing to admit it even to herself. Even if it made her cringe on the inside because somehow her self-esteem bar dropped way down.

"Maybe it's better that way," she muttered under her breath, stepping away, eager to put some distance between them.

"What?" He all but whirled around, frowning. "We better get out of here before they come back."

"Be my guest, Ric."

She turned away from him and scanned the room, fighting to stay focused on something that wasn't Alaric. Tall, floor to ceiling bookshelves were filled with thick volumes. She could feel the faint scent of tobacco in the air and it didn't take her long to spot a chest with cigars on the redwood table. The smell of the past, of something lingering in the back of her mind, pulling her back to the times when things were good and simple just because. It was still there, that feeling of safety, of comfort, even if the last time she'd been here was almost fifteen years ago.

It changed a little, Jenna noted absently, chewing on her lower lip. They must have moved the furniture once or twice over the years, and she remembered the room being bigger somehow. But then again, everything seemed bigger when she was nine if only because she herself was small, Jenna reminded herself. It was the room. She was fairly certain of it. Besides, it wasn't the time to reminisce about the past. This journey down the memory lane could wait until her mission was accomplished, one way or the other, and she was somewhere else, without Alaric hovering in her peripheral view pretty much like a red cloth before the bull.

He ignored her generous offer to get out – seeing as to how it was a problematic thing to do. Not that he'd leave without her anyway…

"Okay," Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose and suppressed an exasperated sigh, feeling completely drained, tired as hell of non-stop fighting – with her, with himself, against the world. "Fine." Just don't get all worked up about it. "Can you please at the very least explain what is this all about?" Silence. "Jenna—"

Jenna turned. Yeah, about that… It was really, really hard to keep a bunch of thoughts together, so she kept juggling between him and why exactly she needed so bad to stay undetected here. That last glass of champagne was one glass to many, perhaps.

"I need to get something here," she said as if it explained everything.

He blinked. Okay, they were finally getting somewhere. "And you absolutely couldn't do it otherwise? Say, in the light of the day? Um… legitimately?" She didn't say anything. "This place is probably stuffed with cameras, for heaven's sake!"

"Only on the outside."

"Jesus," he breathed out and shook his head.

"Look, you know where the door is—" Jenna gestured vaguely towards it and then decided to forget about him altogether for a while.

She scanned her surroundings one more time, putting bits and pieces together until she had a picture from years before in her head, almost as clear as if she'd traveled back in time to that late September day. The day she'd come to the Founder's Hall for the first time. Not that she could see much now, what with the almost pitch-black darkness.

Okay, Sommers, think!

Pointedly dismissing Alaric's exasperated You're impossible growl that much have meant that he thought she was nuts, Jenna crossed the room stepping instinctively only on her toes even though she knew the carpet was muting her every step. She grabbed checked plaid that was draped carelessly over the back of the armchair in the corner, returned back, dropped it to the floor and tucked it neatly into the crack between the floor and the door. Old trick she used to stay up at night and read while her parents thought that the lights were out and she was sound asleep.

She crossed the room again then and approached the glass patio doors. The garden was lit with silvery moonlight and she paused for a moment, peering intensely outside and fighting to catch any movement. Yet, everything remained still, save for a gentle sway of the trees in the night breeze. She could hear the sounds of the conversations coming from the open doors that led to the ballroom but they were muted and distant and seemed to belong to some other reality. On a soft, rueful sigh – that also belonged to someone else, someone who had time to feel sorry for all the things taken away from her – Jenna pulled thick drapes close again, making sure no light was coming in, and the room was completely and absolutely black.

She groped her way to the working desk and reached for the reading lamp to turn it on, and it was only then that she noticed that her hands were trembling slightly and she had to take a couple of subtle, steadying breaths.

The room filled with the soft, honey light on an instant. Jenna stilled for a moment, half expecting for something to happen – for the alarm to howl, for the sound of running outside in the corridor, for the pounding on the door. Nothing happened. No one kicked the door open, no one burst in and demanded the answers, and the only sound Jenna heard was the clock ticking on the shelf.

She looked around once again, trying to picture the room the way it looked years ago in her mind. Walked up to the wall then and folded the corner of the carpet as her heartbeat accelerated in anticipation. What if it was the wrong room? What if it was her mind playing tricks on her? God, what if she made it all up and then believed it was real? She didn't even know what she was looking for, and yet she wanted to find it so bad!

Perfectly polished floorboards were smooth beneath her fingers, and Jenna paused for a moment and swallowed uneasily, feeling like an idiot. And then she felt it, right there. A loose nail. Or whatever it was. Just like before, like when she did the same thing first.

She pushed it like a button on remote control, still not sure anything would happen. But the next moment a dry crack broke the silence and one of the floorboard popped up a little – not enough to draw the attention of someone who didn't know what too look for if it happened by accident but enough for her to try and scrape it with her nails, and ease it up and away, revealing a black opening in the floor.

"My god," Alaric breathed out, making Jenna all but jump and then fall in the least graceful manner possible out of surprise. She turned and found him sitting in a crouch right there by her side, so close that she could feel his breath falling on her neck when he spoke. Oh boy, the man could move quietly. Or maybe she was too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice anything. Much to her relief though, Ric wasn't looking at her and didn't seem to be merely bothered by the closeness, his eyes cast down. "How did you know about it?" He whispered, astonished.

He turned to her then, and the awe on his face – an expression of a little boy who was playing pirates and found an actual treasure – made Jenna smile. It was… it was good to have him there with her. It felt so right somehow in more ways than she could count. Like an island of comfort in the stormy ocean of utter chaos around her. Like—like all other moments they shared before, just the two of them.

And it was dangerous ground, dangerous thoughts she knew she shouldn't go into. But she let it slip. Just for now, just this one time. It didn't mean anything, Jenna told herself. It didn't mean she was reconsidering her position about what he did, about this whole situation between them. She simply… she couldn't feel otherwise, not when he was looking like that.

"Because no one pays attention to a sneaky kid," she whispered back softly, as if it was their secret now. Which it probably was.

Alaric's lips quirked at the sight of her small smile. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her body and the scent of her hair that Jenna tucked nervously around her ears – a moment before he almost reached to do it himself – out of habit, because it felt so damn familiar and natural. Instead, he cleared his throat and balled his hand, curling his fingers into his palm unless they started acting of the will of their own.

She broke eye contact then, reached into the opening and pulled out something wrapped in a black velvet cloth. Paused to exchange quizzical looks with him, and then unfolded the cloth carefully, both of the barely breathing at this point.

It was a small wooden chest, the one that could have been used to keep jewelry and the like. It felt heavy in her hands, and, still surprised to find anything at all, Jenna ran her hand absently over the lid covered with the finely carved ornament as she tilted her head to her shoulder, examining it closely. Instantly, following her natural curiosity and unnatural love for trouble, she tried to pry it open, but the lid set tight. It was clearly locked, a small metal plate with the key hole winked teasingly at her.

"Miranda used to take me here with her sometimes," Jenna explained. "That day I was playing hide-and-seek. Except no one was looking for me, they were all busy with… other stuff. So, I was hiding under the table when Grayson came in, and I saw him putting something in here…" she fought to find the words to explain the reason behind her actions. "He didn't see me, of course. And then someone called me, and I—He wouldn't hide something unless it was something important, right?"

Alaric met her eyes again, his brows furrowed. "Wait, you think this can have something to do with—with the vampires?"

Jenna's smile turned wry and bitter. "I think everything about this Council has something to do with the vampires." She dropped the cloth back into the opening and then replaced the floorboard before straightening up the carpet again. No one would even know, she thought, getting up to her feet. "I forgot about what I saw back then, until—" all of that craze came up. She rubbed at her forehead. "I can just sit and do nothing when a bunch of prehistoric monsters wants my family dead, okay? What if," her gaze darted downwards, "what if it is something important?"

Alaric watched her a few moments, and then nodded slowly, "Okay," trying not to smile at her wording. Prehistoric vampires? He also wanted to add that she didn't have to justify any of it, that she didn't have to be defensive about what she was doing. Not with him. That he would never question or judge any of her reasons, and that he only freaked out because he didn't want her to get in trouble. That he could understand her helplessness and confusion and wish to do something, to be of help like no one else. But when he opened his mouth, she looked away, and the moment was gone.

Meanwhile, Jenna studied the lock again. She shook the chest and heard a distinct sound of something rolling inside of it. Well, at least it wasn't empty, which was better than nothing at all although with her luck it may very well turn out being something absolutely useless. Okay, there should be a way to pick the lock… somehow. It wasn't a vault in the Swiss bank, for heaven's sake! But… but she'd probably better think about it somewhere else.

"Any idea what's inside?" Alaric asked, pulling her out of her messy thoughts as he eyed the chest if a little cautiously – like half expecting it to explode in her hands or something.

"Nope, not a clue." Jenna shook her head.

Hell, she wasn't even sure it was the same thing that Grayson had left in there. For one thing, it didn't look like it stayed untouched for fifteen years. Back then, years ago, she came back to see what he was hiding, curious as ever. She managed to find the loose nail and remove the floorboard but then Miranda came in looking for her so that they could go home, and Jenna hurried to replace it back and leave before someone saw what she was doing. And eventually she simply forgot about it. Until now.

It was the sound of the footsteps in the corridor that made them both freeze.

"Guess we better—" Alaric began.

"Yeah," she nodded. No need to push their luck.

She went through the whole routine backwards – turned off the lights, opened the curtains to let the light of the garden lamps in, threw the plaid back onto the armchair. Tiptoed back to the door and pressed her ear to it. Silence. Then she turned to Ric who was kneeling by the patio door, a paper knife in his hand.

"Any luck?"

"You don't have a survivor's kit and water supply here, do you?" He chuckled softly without looking back. A soft click followed, and when he pushed the handle, it gave in easily.

Jenna sighed with relief. "Do I want to know how you acquired these… breaking-in skills?"

He considered her question for a few moments. "No, not really."

"That's what I thought." She grabbed her pumps from the floor and reached for the handle to finally get out of there, but then paused without turning back. "I don't hate you, Ric," Jenna said in a weary voice feeling like she had weight of the world on her shoulders. She was mad at him, she was hurt like never before in her entire life, and she really, really wanted to beat him with her shoe. But there was one thing that Jenna knew for sure – she could never be able to hate him. Never. "I just—I thought I was done with mistakes," she finished in a whoosh of breath.

Alaric's heart leaped, and he took his time to process her words, not certain he got them right the first time around.

"You really think that what happened between us was a mistake?" He asked in a low, hoarse voice after a few painfully long moments.

She was standing so close now that he could feel fine scent of her peach lotion, the one Jenna was rubbing in her skin every morning after shower – the exact same scent that still lingered on his towels and pillowcases, making his stomach wrench with agony whenever he was lucky to catch it – mixed with her delicate perfume, and the only thing he wanted to do was to pull her close and bury his face in her hair and hold her until all this despair was gone.

But whatever hope he had, whatever hope he was desperately clinging to… his mind had gone blank now, refusing to process what he'd just heard. She couldn't have said it, she couldn't have possibly mean it… So close and yet it felt like he needed to walk for a hundred of years and yet he wouldn't be a step closer.

Jenna pushed the door open at last. "Let's just get out of here."

No one shouted "Get her!" The terrace was empty. She heard Ric slip out of the library behind her and close the door but didn't turn back, not able to actually face him, to meet his eyes, feeling guilt and regret overwhelm her. Nothing would ever change the fact that he was the best thing that happened in her life, that the time she'd spent with him was priceless and precious. She had never felt better. Yet, Jenna couldn't quite answer his question, and it was pressing heavily down on her – what if all of that wasn't enough?

She paused at the corner to put her pumps back on and straighten up her dress after crawling all over the library. She ran her fingers through her hair, took a steadying breath putting the smile back on (just in case) and stepped inside the house again – with the only purpose to get through it and the hell out of there as soon as possible. It was almost deserted by now, much to her relief, save for a few waiters, and Jenna headed straight for the front door—

And all but bumped into Andie.

"Oh, Jenna, I thought you—" she faltered. "Hey, Ric." Andie's eyes darted between the two of them for a moment or two before fixing on Jenna. "I'm leaving now. Do you need a ride?"

"Yes, that would be—" Jenna started.

"No, it's okay," Alaric stepped in, cutting her off and leaving her all but gawking, jaw dropped. "I've got it covered," he assured Andie, whose eyebrow arched ever so slightly, seeing as to how their not really talking to each other wasn't quite inconspicuous.

Andie hesitated for a moment but then let her lips stretch into a wide smile, "Oh, good, I will go with Damon then."

And what was Jenna supposed to say to that? No, screw Damon, let's go? She opened her mouth, closed it again, took her time to gape and splutter reminding herself of a fish in the tank, torn between desperate need to put a few miles between herself and Alaric and some sort of female solidarity because – Damon, duh? He was an ass, her was a vampire – a one-hundred and something years old vampire hitting on her underage niece… which Jenna didn't want to think much about. But on some level she sure could understand what Andie was seeing in him, and she didn't really want to rain on her hot guy parade just because her own love life was a miserable mess.

Besides, Andie was long gone before she formed a single coherent thought in her mind anyway.

It didn't mean she had to go anywhere with Alaric though… except that her choices were rather limited at this point. She could probably walk it, of course… about ten miles… in the middle of the night. Oh, damn it!

Still playing with some options in her head – like calling for the cab for Christ's sake! – she followed him, falling in step with his long sure strides.

"Where is your car?" Alaric asked as they stepped out onto the front porch.

The air was so cold now that it hit Jenna right through her bones, and she shivered involuntarily, wrapping her arms around her shoulders.

"Elena took it," she called back, hoping he couldn't hear the chatter of her teeth. "She said it would be too tempting to jump out of the car if she went with John."

Alaric's lips quirked as he stopped at the edge of the steps and turned to her. Well, if anything, they could always bond over their understanding in regards of John Gilbert.

Jenna glanced up and for a short while they simply stood there under the porch light, looking at each other, their breaths puffing out in small white clouds. And then, before she knew what he was doing, Alaric shrugged out of his jacket and draped it casually over her shoulders, catching her by surprise. Instantly, she was washed over by the familiar scent and warmth of him – everything that was Ric, everything that was butterflies in her stomach, and lazy slow kisses, and her own definition of happiness. She swallowed hard as he tugged lightly at the lapels to wrap his jacket tighter around her, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I'm—I'm fine, really," Jenna tried to protest, scared of how appealing the idea of simply making a small step forward and falling into his arms started to look by the second.

"Don't be ridiculous," he offered her a small sad smile, and his hands lingered near her body before he dropped them down to his sides. "It's freezing. This way."

Numbly, Jenna followed him down the gravel driveway and towards the parking lot for the guests located behind the mansion, her mind blank. She knew it was alcohol, overall exhaustion and sleep-deprivation that blocked her reasonable thinking, but for once she was glad for it.

Alaric held the door open for her and then circled the car to slide into the driver's seat while Jenna was fiddling with the safety belt. She watched him buckle up and start the engine, and reached for radio out of habit because it was what she normally did when they were driving somewhere together, but then jerked her hand back and turned away to stare out the window, feeling the color rise up her cheeks and hoping he didn't notice anything. The small chest was lying in her lap now but Jenna refused to think about it. Refused to think, period. She curled her fingers into the fabric of Alaric's jacket and held it close around her frame, not as much for the warmth – he'd turned on the heater and she didn't quite need it anymore, technically – as for the illusion of his embrace and safety that she needed so bad, seeing as to how the illusion was as much as she could get.

It is the middle of the night and Alaric is fast asleep. Jenna's hand is lying on his chest, right where his heart is, and she watches it rise and fall with as he breathes, feeling steady, sure thuds beneath her palm. Her eyelids are heavy but Jenna fights the weariness, determined to hold on to the moment for a little while longer, wondering despite herself if it is even real.

A string of memories flashes before her mind's eye and she smiles to herself, her lips curving of the will of their own. She looks up and watches Alaric for a few moments, memorizing the outline of his stubborn chin shaded with stubble that has a bluish color in the darkness and the way his long eyelashes throw shadows on his cheeks. On impulse, she wants to reach out and run her hand through his hair, push it from his forehead, but she holds back fearing to disturb his sleep. Instead, she simply cuddles closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder.

"I love you," Jenna whispers, which comes out almost soundless even in complete stillness of the night,

Her smile grows as the warmth of the realization fills her soul and she repeats the words slowly in her mind, savoring each and every of them. She will tell him, she thinks. She will let him know eventually. But now she is glad that he can't hear her, and she can relish in this epiphany, in the moment that belongs only to her.

As she lets out a soft sigh and finally lets her eyes flutter close, she doesn't see the corners of Alaric's lips tug up a little.

"I love you, too," he mouths but Jenna is already asleep.

Alaric gave her a quick look out of the corner of his eye, and then another one. And then tried to concentrate on the road at last, his eyes fixed on the grey asphalt illuminated by the headlights outside the windshield and his fingers closed firmly around the steering wheel. His hand itched to reach out and take hers, the way he always did in situations like this. A simple gesture that felt as natural as breathing, and not being able to do it now felt almost like having one of his limbs cut.

He wished he could know what she was thinking. Alaric sighed subtly. She must have been feeling horrible, confused. And that things that she said… God, she couldn't have possibly meant it for real!... Or could she? His insides twitched painfully.

They weren't on the smoothest of patches now, true. Hell, it took him two years and a great amount of alcohol to even start grasping everything that was poured down on Jenna in a matter of hours. He knew it and he could understand the defensiveness and these walls she'd built around herself if only for the sake of her own sanity. Of all people in the world, he was the one to understand it perfectly.

But he couldn't help feeling helpless all the same. And useless, too. There was nothing he could do to make it easier for her if only because she wouldn't let him. He couldn't push either because she would push back twice as hard. He couldn't talk to her because she wouldn't listen. And he couldn't protect her, be with her, because she wouldn't allow him anywhere near her which he could also understand.

Stolen moments like this one were all he had, but even now he felt that if he merely tried to fix the things between them, he would only make it worse. The whole situation felt pretty much like being stuck in the quicksand – the more you move, the faster you'd go down. Maybe it was all about waiting still after all, about giving her time to process it. So that was why he kept his mouth shut and his eyes fixed on the road, which, sadly, didn't change the truth – they were falling away, falling apart, and he felt completely powerless to change it.

They drove in silence interrupted only by the soft purr of the engine, and eventually Jenna fell into that numb slumber – the state when she was neither asleep, nor awake, lulled into something in-between by the warmth and monotonous blinking of the trees outside her window, her forehead leaned against the cool glass as she stared sightlessly outside. The starts were bright in the cold, pitch-black sky, and for a little while she almost managed to pretend that this carousel of motion was all there was to the world – the world where everything was right with Alaric, and where this ride could never end.

Jenna jerked and straightened up when the car came to a stop in front of the Gilberts' house where all windows were black, and the dim porch light was illuminating the front lawn, giving it weird yellowish shade. Oddly, and much to her disappointment, a twenty-minute trip seemed to last only a few seconds.

She climbed out of the car and was greeted by cold, sharp gusts of wind, and they walked together up the porch steps – Jenna didn't need to look back to know Alaric would follow. But then again, she was wearing his jacket, so it was probably a logical thing to do if he wanted to have it back.

Once at the door, she stopped and turned as memories of other moments like this flashed through her mind – starting from the one when he walked her home from the Grill on the first night they met and ending with him doing the exact same thing last week, with the only difference that last week she grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him down until their lips met, her head spinning from a couple of shots of tequila and that amazing feeling Ric alone was to blame for. And he didn't, in fact, say goodbye until the following morning.

So not the mental image she needed right now!

"I didn't know you were planning to come tonight," Jenna said for lack of better words seeing as to how simply slamming the door in his face wasn't that much of an option after he was nice enough to drive her home.

Alaric tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants, feeling awkward and out of place. He dropped his gaze to his feet for a moment before looking up at her again.

"Carol Lockwood invited me." And I wanted to see you so bad that I didn't find it in me to turn her down.

"Oh." 'Oh'? Really? Geez! "Um, well… thanks… for the ride, and all." Jenna cleared her throat, and the finally remembered to hand his jacket back, not quite feeling like letting go of it, but what other choice did she have?

Alaric took it. "Sure, anytime." He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, cleared his throat. "Jenna, I'm sorry. For… for all this mess. For everything."

"Don't," she put her hand up and shook her head. "I can't go into this, Ric. Not now… not yet."

He studied her for a few moments and then nodded slowly, which looked like he was losing a battle with himself. "Okay." How was it even possible for the right thing to turn into something so wrong? Well, maybe because it wasn't the right thing from the start, a small evil voice singsonged in his head, and he grimaced inwardly. "Look, I know it's—it's overwhelming. But if you need anything, of if you want to talk, or—"

"I won't," Jenna cut him off firmly and with more determination than she was actually feeling, and then kicked herself mentally at the sight of hurt that flickered across his face, feeling guilty and pretty much disgusted with herself for punishing him for her own pain. Alaric caused it, true, but she still had no right to shoot it right back at him. It wasn't her. Or at least it hadn't been… until now.

She wasn't blind for heaven's sake! She wasn't that selfish and self-centered to ignore the obvious. He was clearly struggling as well, fighting to find some solution for both of them, groping his way forward like a blind man in the dark. Jenna could almost feel his pain with her skin, and desperate hope in his eyes was breaking her heart, making her want to avoid his gaze as best she could. And she could see the wall between them that both tried to get over but only kept falling down from over and over again. There was nothing that she wanted to do more than to wipe that fear off of his face and just go back to how they were… before. To how she knew they were supposed to be.

But she wasn't ready to see the situation through his eyes yet. Jenna knew – or at least some rational part of her did – that there was reason behind what he did, what they all did. After all, she didn't rush to drop the adoption bomb down on Elena the next day after the funeral of the only parents she knew and ended up being a bad guy in the end, also feeling hurt by her niece's refusal to understand.

Rationally, she could see it all. Yet, no one had ever hurt her as much as Alaric Saltzman did and Jenna couldn't simply dismiss it, and forget, and move on. She needed to sort out her feelings first, find her balance again. She needed to come in terms with herself before considering other points of view, whoever they belonged to.

And hell if he was helping, standing before her and looking just as crashed and devastated as she felt! Damn it!

"Goodnight, Ric," she said quietly. God knows, we all need some rest.

She turned away, if only to finally avoid his eyes, and reached to retrieve the spare key from under the pot on the outer windowsill when it downed on her that her clutch bag was either in her car or somewhere at the Lockwoods. In the light of the events of the night it totally slipped her mind, although, to be completely honest, Jenna couldn't care less.

But before she had a chance to so much as move, she felt Alaric catch her by the wrist and whirl her around, and the next thing she knew was that his lips crashed against hers, hard and demanding, and he was kissing her for all she was worth, as though his life depended on it.

For a moment, Jenna was stunned, too shocked to even start processing what was happening. But then her body decided to take the matters into its hands, figuratively speaking, and her lips parted, yielding to Alaric, and she was kissing him back with all the urgency and need that coursed through her system – as though her life depended on it, too. Her stomach was flopping like crazy and her skin tingled where he touched her, and somewhere deep inside she wanted the time to stop so that the moment could last forever. She felt his hand let go of her wrist, run up her arm and rake through her hair keeping her head tilted up, as he deepened and slowed the kiss, making her knees go weak, and if there was anything to push her over the edge, that was it.

Later, Jenna knew, she would blame it on too much champagne and being so physically and emotionally drained that her mind simply didn't belong to her anymore. Now, though, her lips were moving on his as she marveled in the feeling, against common sense and logic. He tasted like bourbon and desperation, triggering something inside of her that she couldn't explain with words, and she knew that if he let go of her now, she would most likely collapse and fall apart.

And then it was over, as suddenly as it began. Jenna's cheeks were flushed and her lips felt swollen, and they were both breathing hard when Alaric pulled back.

"It wasn't a mistake," he said in a lowest of whispers which she barely heard past the beating of her heart that seemed to resonate in every part of her body. His hand slid down her cheek, leaving a burning trace on her skin. "And we're not done."

And then he was gone, leaving her standing there and watching him walk away with her heart pounding so hard it was about to crack her ribs and jump out of her chest any second, a small wooden chest cradled to her midsection as though it was something Jenna could hold onto to keep herself steady. And it took her a moment or two to realize that somewhere during this searing kiss her brain must have evaporated through her ears.

As back headlights of Alaric's car disappeared around the corner, an engine of a sleek black car parked at the curb on the opposite side of the street came to life and started to purr softly. Isobel watched the dark house for a moment or two before starting to move in the opposite direction, her lisp formed into a small half smile. Boy, what a drama! These two were desperately missed in some Mexican soap opera.

She all but snickered, cruising down the deserted back streets, heading towards the shabby motel on the outskirts of the town – the kind where the manager at reception would never ask for the ID or look the other way if she needed it. Not that it was a big deal, she could always use compulsion. But she chose to stay as inconspicuous as she could since suspicious memory loss could always arise unnecessary suspicion, at least for a few days. She knew she'd find a nice foreclosure in a day or two but for now the motel would do, if she tried not to think of who could possibly be killed there. At least that was what the smell in the bathroom implied.

For a moment, Isobel considered stopping by some bar to pick up a snack. At this time on Saturday night it probably was full of people willing to do absolutely anything just for the hell of it with an amount of alcohol in their blood to make her drunk, too. But in the end she chose to settle for a blood bank "donation", not quite up for the action. Hunting was a game. An art even, if you please. She hated turning it into some bleak grocery shopping, and the night was long enough to kill the buzz.

Or maybe it was watching her husband pining for the little perfect Barbie, Isobel thought, and tried to understand if she was more annoyed or amused by the fact that Alaric was playing house with her daughter's legal guardian and aunt, looking pretty much like a lost puppy whenever his eyes stopped on Jenna Sommers. Really, of all single women in Mystic Falls— Speak of narrow world.

She shook her head and turned into a small dark parking lot. Not that it was an issue seeing as to how she had a better vision than the cat. It was more a matter of irritation than actual inconvenience now.

So, John was right – it was like a caricature, them all running around, searching for a way to break the curse, to find the answers, all the while living through their small personal dramas… the story could have received an Oscar or two.

She climbed out of the car, locked it and headed for her room, fiddling for the key card in her purse. The area was run down and depressing, the hotel itself was last painted or redecorated before she was born, or so it looked, and once again Isobel reminded herself to find a more decent accommodation as soon as possible. Like, before the bedbugs ate her in her sleep. She wrinkled her nose as she stepped into the room and reached for the switch. Good thing she was already dead, or she'd most likely have a wish to do it now.

A long hot bath would probably help. Or shower. Or not so long, if she remembered the dingy bathroom correctly. Or may she should just—

Isobel stopped short in her tracks, freezing to the spot in the middle of the room.

The place was dump of dumps but the man sitting in the chair under the stand-lamp made it look like a palace, which Isobel blamed on the air on unmistakable dignity that was practically radiating from him. She had heard of him but never actually had a chance to meet him, as in – was lucky enough to avoid the pleasure so far. Yet, there he was, looking at her with his calm, cold eyes that made her shiver on the inside. She tilted her head up and cocked her eyebrows questioningly. Rule number one in the vampire society – or any society, come to think of it – was to never show the fear, or confusion, or combination of both.

"Isobel Saltzman, I presume?" He asked, even though Isobel was sure he knew exactly who she was – otherwise he would never ever be sitting there in the first place – and the question was a mere formality because in his opinion it was the right thing to do, regardless of the situation or the nature of his business. She chose not to put much into his apprehensive, measuring glance he swept her with. To confirm her point, he didn't wait for her answer and went on, "My name is Elijah, and I believe we have something to talk about."

To be continued…

A/N: Please review, it means a lot :)