Chapter Eighteen

The vampires surrounding her lapse into conversing solely in French, leaving Elena alone with her throbbing jaw. She tries to block it out and pick up at least a hint of what they are discussing, but none of the words are familiar. Baffled, she watches as they all suddenly go quiet and turn comically towards the tunnel.

"Ah, did you start the party without me," a voice calls.

Elena gasps as Damon emerges into the light, red eyed with exhaustion, his face darkened by several days of stubble. His gaze falls on her with an expression of equal adoration and concern.

Across the room, Daphne makes a sudden movement, but Pierre grasps her wrist and pulls her back towards him.

"Attendez," he orders softly.

Unconsciously, Elena rises to go to Damon, only to find herself stopped by a firm grip on her shoulder. Annalise studies Damon with that hard, critical stare of hers, like she's mentally summing up all his potential weaknesses.

"You're hours earlier than I expected, Damon," she remarks throatily in English. "I hadn't even begun to figure how to draw you out."

He shrugs. "You left a pretty easy trail to follow. Turns out you're not that smart." Annalise glowers at him. "Old age?" he quips. "You've gotta be getting close to three hundred if I remember right." He gives Daphne one of his patented sidelong glances, a smirk playing at his lips. "Hello, Daphne."

Spewing French profanities, Daphne struggles to get free of her brother's grip, but he holds firm.

"Easy, cheri," Annalise soothes from where she stands, blocking Elena from Damon. "You will have your revenge soon enough." Her lips curl into a smile. "As will I. It will be so much sweeter knowing he is human. However did you manage that, by the way?"

Damon's eyes darken. "Long story. Buy the e-book. Let me take Elena and go, Annalise," he suggests calmly. "There's no reason for this to get…messy."

"And why ever not?" With a triumphant smirk, Annalise nods to Pierre indicating he should release Daphne.

Elena winces, expecting to see Daphne pounce. She peers around Annalise only to find Pierre still holding onto his struggling sister.

"I can't let you do this," he tells his sister softly.

Daphne begins to claw at her brother, screaming at him in French, but he holds her still, attempting to pacify her.

"Qu'est que c'est, Pierre?" Annalise shrieks, blurring away from Elena. Damon takes advantage of the lack of attention, coming easily to her side.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his fingers softly tracing the place already bruising on her jaw.

Elena nods, leaning into him to breathe in the comforting scent of leather and bourbon. "What is—?"

Damon holds a finger to her lips, jerking his head towards the entrance to the tunnel.

Katherine frames the narrow passageway, her slender figure thrown into shadow by the dim light.

"Wow, I love what you…haven't done with the place," she remarks, airily strolling into the room.

Annalise whirls around to face her, but Katherine has already blurred past, drawing her attention to the other side of the room.

"You've gotten careless," Katherine taunts. She perches on her tip-toes on the metal bar that separates the two sections. "I taught you better than that."

She blurs again, this time reappearing mere inches from Annalise's face. "One guard, Annalise? No wonder the Slayer has gotten the better of you."

A flash of fear passes across her face, replaced quickly by sheer anger. Annalise reaches for Katherine's neck but she twists out of her way, going for her opponent's heart. Annalise easily dodges her and the two vampires begin to fight in a sickening whirl of color that spins throughout the room.

While Katherine attempts to rectify a centuries old betrayal, Pierre has managed to wrestle Daphne to the floor. He keeps attempting to grasp her neck, but cannot get a grip on it in the struggle.

Damon takes Elena's hand, tugging her towards the tunnel.

Elena spares a look back at the whirl of the fight raging behind them. "What about Katherine? Klaus is—"

Damon shakes his head. "Katherine will be fine, Elena. We have to go."

With a last look towards her doppelganger, Elena grabs one of the lanterns off a table and follows him into the tunnel.

"How do we get out of here?" she asks as they trot as quickly as they can manage along uneven path of the tunnel. Damon bypasses several narrow channels.

"Here." He finally halts at one of the off shooting passageways, this one several feet off the ground. Elena sets the lantern on the floor, accepting the hand he offers to help hoist her into the tunnel.

As she is attempting to maneuver herself back around, meaning to take the light and pull Damon into the tunnel with her, a sudden crack sounds and everything goes dark.

"Damon?" she calls out, thinking maybe something happened to the lamp. There is no response. "Damon?" she calls again, more panicked this time.

There's a soft feminine giggle, then nothing.

With horror, Elena crawls out of the tunnel on her hands and knees, her hands landing on slick leather fabric.

"Damon?" Her hands grope their way up Damon's torso, arriving at his neck. Frantically, Elena feels for the steady rhythm of his pulse against her fingertips, but there is nothing.

"No!" She tugs at his head, but it only flops aimless to the side. "You are not dead. Do you hear me, Damon? You are not fucking dead."

"Au contraire," Daphne's voice practically sings. "He is very, very dead. There's no recovering from a snapped neck."

Elena screams, fisting her hands into Damon's jacket. Something sharp scrapes her hands, and she tugs, realizing he must've tucked a stake into the outside pocket. She pulls it free with a whimper.

There a thousand words she wishes to unleash at Daphne, each one more filled with profanity and anger and grief than the last, but when she opens her mouth, all that comes out is a piercing sob.

"You're better off," Daphne remarks. A lamp flickers to light, illuminating her lovely face in darkness. She leans over the couple to set the lamp on a nearby edge. "I've had my revenge, and I've done you a favor." She smiles slightly. "You should be grateful; I could've dragged it out, made it so much worse for him. But we're rather pressed for time and, really, I just wanted to end it. That's the way he would've wanted it, don't you think?"

Elena can't contain her fury anymore. She launches herself at Daphne with an anguished howl, clinging onto her back. The vampire is much stronger than her, but she cannot match Elena's grief stricken rage. Daphne claws at her, trying to fight her off, but she has little experience fighting with a human adhering desperately to her back.

Blood flies as Elena stabs and kicks and claws with abandon; she doesn't care if she kills her, she doesn't care if she dies herself. All she can do, all she can feel is the need to cause as much pain as possible. She scrapes the stake down Daphne's arm, earning a sharp cry of pain from the vampire. Howling, she tries to maneuver her back to the wall, so Elena is forced against it but she doesn't count on the stake or the way Elena has repositioned it. Using all the strength she can muster, she rams herself up against the wall, unknowingly launching both the stake and Elena's arm straight into her sternum with jarring force. With a small cry, she goes limp as the wood pierces her heart, veins trailing across her skin as she desiccates.

Pinned to the wall by Daphne's heavy corpse, Elena collapses against it, blood running down her face. Roaring pain shoots up her arm, her head feels completely muddled. She's about to close her eyes when her ears pick up the sound of running footsteps coming her way.

Klaus. It has to be Klaus. Her head slumps against the wall. All of this and he is going to win anyways. He's taken everything from her, her entire family, her friends, both her boyfriends, her blood, her carefree teen years. Now he will take away her freedom.

Elena's eyes flutter, and then close.

A shrill howl echoes through the tunnel, one Elijah recognizes instantly. He turns fluidly, taking off towards the source of the noise. Faith follows not far behind, holding her phone out for light, her footfalls echoing on the uneven terrain as she tries to keep up.

"Oh, God." Faith stumbles to a halt, nearly tripping over Damon's body. She bends down trying to feel for a pulse.

"It's too late for him." Elijah shoves Daphne's corpse aside, kneeling in front of Elena where she is slumped against the wall. Blood trickles down her temple, her arm hanging at a strange angle.

"Elena." Elijah takes her head gently in his hands, trying to rouse her. Her sluggish heartbeat echoes in his ears. "Elena, I need you to open your eyes."

Elena stirs with a soft moan. Her eyes flutter open, confused, unfocused.

Elijah's fangs descend and Faith whirls at him, about to pounce. She stops only when he rips open his own wrist, holding the dripping cut to Elena's mouth. "Drink, Elena. You have to drink."

Elena whimpers at first, but as the blood begins to trickle down her throat, her eyes start to focus. After a few swallows, she tries to shove his arm away, but he holds fast.

"A little more, Elena," he urges, keeping his wrist there for a few more swallows before finally removing it.

"Damon…" Elena tries to crawl towards his body, her chest heaving with sobs, but Elijah grasps her, pulling her away.

"Elena, please."

"He's dead," she gulps between sobs, struggling against him. The pain hits her like a knife wound, twisting at her gut and she doubles over, letting out a gut wrenching bawl, a sound more animal than human. "I can't... I can't…" She gasps for breath, unable to get air into her lungs.

Elijah turns her head so he can catch her eyes. "Go to sleep, Elena." He compels her gently. "It'll be alright, just go to sleep."

Elena's blinks once in confusion; she stares at him for a second, then her head lulls to the side and she falls asleep, her breaths slow and even.

"What did you just do?" Faith spits, her voice quavering with outrage.

Elijah pulls a handkerchief from his sleeve, gently wiping the blood from Elena's forehead. "I gave her a reprieve from incredible grief," he explains calmly, lifting her easily into his arms. "She is both physically and emotionally weakened right now, and my priority is to get her away from here. You may not agree with my methods, but I assure you I am doing this with her best interests—"

He abruptly stops at the sound of footsteps coming down the tunnel. A moment later, Faith hears them too. Quickly, she wrenches out the stake protruding from Daphne's back.

She reels around, ready to stake the approaching threat. The footsteps grow closer and she brings back her arm—only to come face to face with Elena.

Faith blinks a few times, looking from the woman in front of her to the girl asleep in Elijah's arms.

"Katerina," Elijah greets her calmly.

With a glare from Katherine, Faith lowers the stake. "Wow," she mumbles.

Katherine ignores her, turning her attention to the horrible scene in front of them. Lying in Elijah's arms, Elena breathes deeply and evenly, her head lolling onto his shoulder while Damon rests limply at their feet, his head hanging at an unnatural angle.

Katherine immediately kneels next to him, tenderly closing his bright eyes with a resigned sigh. "He had my blood in his system," she says softly. "He'll come back."

"We don't know if his taking the cure will affect that," Elijah confesses. "But for Elena's sake, I hope you are right."

"We need to get out of here," Katherine orders firmly. She easily lifts Damon so he dangles over her shoulder. "I heard noises farther down." She nods back towards the cavern. "These tunnels are extensive; Klaus could enter them anywhere." She points to the tunnel that Damon and Elena were attempting to escape through, easily shifting herself and Damon into the space beyond. "This leads to the basement of an old theatre a few blocks from here."

Elijah follows with Elena and Faith brings up the rear with the lantern, as she is the only one who needs it. They move as quickly as possible, slowed by the uneven terrain and the burden of carrying Damon and Elena. After about five minutes of running, Elijah halts, alarm flashing across his face as he hears the faint echo of voices.

He looks to Faith, whose loud, healthy Slayer heart beats deafeningly in his ears, far louder than an average human. Her eyes meet his in an even stare, widening as she begins to understand.

Run, Elijah mouths, gesturing forwards. Faith glances at Elena lying in his arms with trepidation. "Leave Damon and take Elena," he whispers to Katherine. "If we get separated, I've arranged for us to take an empty train bound for Antibes leaving the Gare Lyon in two hours. Make sure you're on it."

Katherine hesitates for a second, then sets Damon gently on the ground, taking Elena into her arms instead. Together, the two women take off.

Elijah remains behind, listening. Ahead of him, he can still hear Faith's heartbeat pounding, but they move quickly and it grows fainter every minute. Behind him, someone's voice drifts through the tunnel, just faint enough that he can catch every few words. He sighs with relief as it becomes more and more muffled; obviously, whoever it is moves in the opposite direction.

Turning on his heel, Elijah picks up Damon and whirls around to catch up with Faith and Katherine.

Four hours later, Katherine sits vigil with Damon while the empty rattling train makes its way towards Antibes. He lies on the stretch of dark blue seats across from her, pale and stiff with rigor mortis. She knows that hers is not the face he will want to see when he wakes, but Elena is still sound asleep in another compartment. Her face, she figures, is better than none at all; she owes him that much at least. That is, if he wakes. With every hour that passes, the possibility becomes more remote.

Drawing her knees up to her chest, Katherine stares out into the dark countryside; she doesn't like this feeling that creeps into her chest, knowing there is a chance he won't come back. For over a century, regardless of the fact she never really loved him, of the fact she spent most of the century not speaking to him, he always had a sort of presence. A sarcastic, annoying presence that was undoing all the effort it took to fake her own death, but still, a presence.

There's a quiet knock on the compartment door and Faith enters. She spares a solemn glance at Damon, before turning her attention to Katherine.

"I thought you should know…Elena's awake."

Katherine stretches out her legs, flexing her stiff feet a few times. "How is she?"

She swallows. "Confused mostly. I think she blacked out most of what happened. I've gotten her to eat and drink a little, but she's…she keeps asking about Damon. Elijah wanted to compel her to sleep until we know for sure if he's dead, but I wouldn't let him."

Katherine sighs. All these years and some things never change. Elijah never could bear bad news well. "I'll go talk to her." She stands, throwing a look at Damon. "Will you sit with him? If he wakes up…he shouldn't be alone."

Faith nods grimly, taking Katherine's vacant seat.

Elena sits with her back to the door of the dining car, her head bowed, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug that reeks of vervain, revealing just how Faith managed to handle the situation. Katherine suppresses a half smile at her gumption as she languidly takes the seat across from Elena; rearranging her expression, she tries to push all her emotions away.

A plate now containing only crumbs rests at Elena's elbow, in the seat next to her Elijah urges her gently to drink more water.

"Elijah, maybe you should go sit with Faith," she suggests evenly.

"Katerina, I don't think—"

Katherine catches his eye and Elijah shuts his mouth.

"Trust me," she urges. "Please."

Elijah sighs. "Very well." He pats Elena's hand once before letting himself out.

She raises her head as soon as he leaves, facing Katherine with heavy eyes. "He's dead, isn't he? I wish someone would just tell me," she pleads. "Please?"

She faces Elena, keeping her expression impassive. "It's Pierre's fault," she explains frankly, starting from the beginning. "He lost control of Daphne. She managed to snap his neck and she got away while I was distracted with Annalise. From what it looks like, she came after you and Damon, and then she snapped his neck."

She lets out a half sob, clutching the mug tightly.

"It was quick, Elena." Katherine continues. "I doubt he felt a thing. After that, I think you managed to stake Daphne, but you were hurt badly in the process. That's how Elijah and Faith found you."

Elena nods, her head heavy. Still, she keeps her brimming eyes on Katherine.

"There's still a chance, though," Katherine adds. "He had my blood in his system when he died. If the cure doesn't affect whether or not you can transition, he may still come back."

She stares at Katherine, alight with hope.

"It's not a sure thing, Elena. There's a chance my blood won't work, so you need to prepare yourself for…"

"I know." Elena's shoulders straighten, her expression darkening. "I want to see him."

Katherine nods. "I'll take you."

She rises to follow her, keeping her hands wrapped around her mug like a lifeline.

Elijah slides the door away, entering the compartment quietly.

"Any change?" he asks Faith, even though he can see for himself there is none. Damon exudes no heartbeat, no breath. Not a sliver of life.

Faith shakes her head. "Is Katherine telling her?"

Elijah leans against the wall, crossing his arms. "She is. I want to apologize, Faith, for what I said to you in anger. I know you were only acting in her best interest."

Faith quirks an eyebrow in surprise.

"She needs this time to grieve; even if he does wake, her life is going to change considerably," Elijah continues. "Had I been thinking clearly, I would've considered that. Please understand though, so much has been taken from her that… I was only trying to help her."

"You're very protective of her," Faith throws out suggestively. "Why is that?"

"I have a great respect for Elena," he replies shortly. "It is rare for someone who has been through what she has to be able to look at the world with the warmth and compassion she does. Her parents died two years ago and since then, my family has taken the lives of nearly everyone she loves, including, at one point, her own. Yet when she awoke, the first thing she said to me after asking after you and Damon was to apologize for what happened to my apartment. There is no repaying what my family owes to her for the wrongs they have done; the least I could do was relieve her pain, if only for a little while."

"I didn't know," Faith picks at the fraying patch on the knee of her jeans. "I mean, I knew a little, but…do you think he'll rise?"

Elijah spares a glance at Damon. "I honestly don't know," he says stoically. "I discussed the cure at some length with Giles when we were in Scotland and, based on what Elena said, we think a witch made it for the purpose of neutralizing a threat like Klaus. If it was…it is unlikely Damon will be able to transition a second time. But…Buffy also proposed an interesting theory."

Faith nods. "That it was made by the Powers That Be, eventually intended for Angel—she told me. If that's the case though…why was there enough for two? And why would the Powers let it get into Klaus's hands if it was intended for Angel? I mean, aren't they supposed to be all knowing?"

Elijah shrugs. "I don't know much about the Powers, Faith. But surely they don't control everything. And as for why there was enough for two, I really can only guess…"

Elijah trails off as the door opens, revealing Katherine and Elena. Elijah moves aside so they can enter the compartment.

"We'll leave you to it," he states stiffly, gliding through the door with Faith behind him.

As soon as the door slides shut, Elena kneels next to Damon, finally abandoning her mug in favor of his cold hand.

Katherine makes an effort to keep her emotions out of her voice. "He should be awake before we reach Antibes. If he doesn't wake by daylight…"

"Then he's not going to," Elena finishes with a ragged breath. She clutches Damon's hand tighter in her own. "I know how it works."

"You should have these." Katherine reaches into her coat, pulling out Elena's bracelet and Damon's ring. "I took them from Annalise."

"Thank you," Elena replies. She doesn't make any movement to take them, so Katherine sets them gingerly on the seat.

"You're surprisingly calm," Katherine notes indifferently.

Elena looks down at her clasped hand. "I'm not," she chokes out. "I just…I'm trying not to think. If I think about it for even a second I…" She trails off with a sob, finally looking up at Katherine. "He did this for me once," she lets out, gently soothing her fingers over his palm.

"Would you like me to stay with you?" Katherine asks.

Elena nods, grimly. "Please."

Katherine surprises her by sliding onto the floor instead of taking a seat. They do not speak, they do not touch, but together, they wait.

As the pink hues of dawn begin to streak across the horizon, Elena squeezes Damon's hand tightly, begging him to pull one last miracle for her. The rosy light falls upon them slowly, first through the window, throwing the rest of them in shadow, then sluggishly it creeps onto the seat. It hits Damon's hair, then his face, finally bathing all three of them in a rose-tinted glow. She bows her head, resting it on his stomach. "Please," she whispers. But daylight has fallen and there is nothing.

Katherine stands with a ragged breath. "I'll give you a moment," she says rigidly, though her voice cracks a bit. "We'll be in Antibes in about half an hour."

Elena lifts her head, nodding. Tears stream down her face, but Katherine says nothing else, instead making a quick exit.

Elena runs her thumb over Damon's, like she has a thousand times. Only this time, he doesn't squeeze her hand back, doesn't tease her or call her cara mia. And he won't ever again.

"I don't know how to do this," she chokes out. "I don't know how to say goodbye to you. I can't say goodbye to you. And you know what, I'm not going to." She sniffs once, collecting her thoughts. "Right now, all I want to do is lie down next to you and never get up because I can't picture my life without you. " She wipes her face with her ragged sleeve. "But I'm not going to do that. I can't do that. Jeremy and Stefan need me to fight for them. And, God, it's going to suck, but I'm going to do it. I'm going to eliminate Klaus and save them and then…" Her life stretches before her, empty and lonely. "I'll live my life," she finally says firmly through a half sob, "Because it's what I have to do. It's what I know you'd want for me. But I'll miss you every minute." She leans over, kissing his forehead. "And someday, I'll see you on the Other Side. Wait for me," she whispers. "I love you." She plants a gentle kiss on his lips, hoping for maybe just once the princess will wake the prince. When there is no response, she straightens, resigned. Taking his daylight ring, she slides it carefully onto his stiff finger and clasps her bracelet back onto her wrist.

When she finally brings herself to slide open the door and step out into the corridor, Elijah waits a discreet distance away.

"Elena...I am so—"

Elena shakes her head. "Don't, please." She wraps her arms around herself, leaning against the wall for support. "I just can't."

Elijah nods, grimly. "I've made some arrangements," he lets out frankly. "Unfortunately, Mystic Falls is out of the question, but…there is a lovely graveyard in Antibes."

Elena nods, faintly. "Damon liked Antibes. He was here in the twenties…."

"I'll take care of the details," he assures her. "You just try to…" he trails off not knowing what to say.

Elena stifles a hysterical laugh. What exactly is it she's supposed to do with herself now? Rest?

"I'll see to it that you get some clean clothes," Elijah finally finishes.

"Thank you," Elena says quietly. She looks back to the compartment Damon lies in; she can't bring herself to go back there knowing he won't ever wake up. "I'm just going to…" She ducks her head and shuffles towards the dining car.

As soon as the train comes to a halt, Elena is ushered off the tiny platform and through the deserted station with Katherine and Faith at each elbow.

Elijah walks ahead of them, carefully scoping out any form of danger.

Once they reach the parking lot, he opens the door of a small black car, indicating Elena should slide in first. Katherine follows, then Faith.

"I've arranged for us to leave for Naples tomorrow morning if the weather holds," Elijah explains quietly once the girls are shielded by the protective tint of the windows. He motions his head to the driver. "This is my friend Dmitri; he's been kind enough to let us borrow his yacht."

Dmitri turns around, smiling widely at them. "'Ello," he voice thickly accented.

"You'll be safe with him," Elijah assures. "He's going to take you to the yacht now. I'll make the arrangements for Damon and meet you there shortly."

He knocks a few times on the roof and the car pulls away, the girls sitting in cramped silence until they come to a stop at an upscale yacht club where a number of luxury boats bob in the water.

Dmitri leads them along the winding to dock to a medium sized white yacht called the Alessandra. Elena pauses to admire the sleek, modern lines it creates against the grey blue water.

"Please, be comfortable," he urges, spreading his arms with hospitality as they step aboard. "There are many rooms below deck. You," he gestures to Elena, "Are to have the master suite."

"Thank you," Elena replies quietly. She ought to protest, but she can't seem to care that much. Somehow, it just doesn't matter.

She finds the master suite of rooms easily; there's a large lovely bed covered in plush pillows, a big screen TV, and a number of comfortable looking overstuffed chairs. The monochromatic décor fits her mood, but the luxury of the suite gives her no sense of pleasure.

Tears sting her eyes when she opens the bathroom door to find a beautiful sunken bathtub so she turns away, flicking on the shower as hot as it can go. In the streaming water, she scrubs at her skin until it turns red as a tomato, but it offers her no relief. Sinking to the floor, her head falls into her hands and she finally lets herself cry. She sobs and sobs until the water has run cold and there are no tears left in her.

When she's finished, she wipes her eyes with the cold water and drags herself out of the shower. Back in the suite, she surveys the closet, hoping for something clean to wear. True to his word, Elijah has provided clothes: the drawers and closet are filled with more than she could possibly need for a short journey: jeans, shirts, shoes, and jackets, even a bathing suit. She flicks a tag on a black Dior dress, noticing it is exactly in her size. That, combined with the array of Loubotins and Jimmy Choos lining the floor, make it clear Katherine did the selecting. She is eternally grateful for that when she opens one of the drawers, hunting for underwear. What she finds is a wide array of lingerie; some so intricate she isn't even sure how to put it on.

"Not funny, Katherine," she mumbles under her breath as she selects the plainest set she can find. Still, she's spent enough time with Katherine to recognize it as one of her little jokes. Two days ago, she might've even laughed.

She's barely managed to get underwear on when the door opens and Katherine slides in without knocking.

"I don't know you what you mean," she remarks. "I'm hilarious."

Elena rolls her eyes. "And also have never heard of knocking."

"Like you have anything I don't see on a daily basis?" Katherine huffs, flicking through the closet and pulling out a black dress. "Put this on, I want to see how it fits."

Elena takes it from her, obediently tugging it on while Katherine selects a pair of shoes. "I really don't think—"

"This is important, Elena," Katherine continues.

"To who?" Elena spits bitterly, the dress hanging half off her shoulder. "If you hadn't noticed, Damon isn't here." She glares at Katherine, then rolls her eyes up to the ceiling. "Damon?" She calls softly. "What do you think? Do you care what I wear to your funeral? If you want to pass judgment on the lingerie I'm wearing, now would be the time."

She throws up her hands at the silence. "He's not here, Katherine," she yells. "He's not here and he's never going to be again and he doesn't care because he can't. He's dead. And it doesn't fucking matter what dress I'm wearing because he's still going to be dead." She slumps onto the floor with her back against the bed, the dress still hanging awkwardly off of her. Scowling, she picks up one of the black pumps Katherine selected and hurls it at the wall.

Katherine watches her, her face impassive. "Are you done with your little tantrum?"

Elena glowers up at her, arms crossed.

"It's a matter of respect," Katherine continues. "You're a Southern girl; you should know this better than I do."

Elena nods, glumly; anyone else would be babying her right, but not Katherine. For once, she's glad of it.

"You're right," she remarks gruffly, picking herself up off the floor. She holds out her arms so Katherine can adjust her dress. "Do your worst."

From atop a small hill overlooking the brilliant blue of the Mediterranean, Elena lifts her head to catch the warm breeze wafting off the sea below. At least Elijah picked a nice spot, she thinks, staring out at the beauty below her; Damon always did have a penchant for water.

They make a rather sorry group of mourners, with just the four of them, Dmitri, and a minister Elijah managed to procure. It is a far cry from the traditional Southern funeral he ought to have had. There are no candles, no church packed with people, no one to bring fried chicken and coconut cake, no wailing of the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" on the organ.

Instead, Elena watches, detached as the minister prattles on in French she does not understand, and Elijah and Faith lower the coffin into the hole. Elijah goes on to say a few words about honor and respect, and Faith adds something about friendship, but Elena hardly hears them; her brain can't seem to focus on anything. Instead, her eyes dart around, noticing the ripple of the waves below them, the wrinkle on the minister's robe, the flaw on Elijah's coat button.

"Elena," Katherine prompts. She picks up a handful of dirt from the pile next to the grave and gently presses it into her limp hand.

Elena stares at the crumpled dirt in her palm. She knows she is supposed to drop it into the grave, a symbolic gesture always done by family. She did this at her parent's funeral, at Jenna's and Jon's. At Alaric's.

She walks to the edge of the grave.

The coffin is nestled gently in the soil, dark wood polished until it gleams. Elena stares at it for a moment, uncomprehending. It feels like she's watching in slow motion as her wrist turns and her hand opens.

The dirt smatters onto the lid, marring the otherwise clean, gleaming surface of the coffin. The beautiful coffin Damon will spend the rest of his eternity inside. She pulls back with a cry, barely managing to stumble away before she falls to her knees, retching.

Everything starts to spin. The minister begins to yell at Elijah in French while Faith comes to Elena's side, patting her back until she is done throwing up. When she has finally expelled everything in her stomach, she gently helps her up, mumbling something about going back to the car. Elena nods, testing her unsteady legs in the ridiculous heels Katherine choose.

She can't bear to look back at the grave but suddenly, as they reach the edge of the hill, something compels her to glance back over her shoulder. Katherine stands near the edge of the grave, twirling a rose between her fingers, her head bowed. Just as she drops the rose, she whispers two words, words that Elena never thought could ever pass from Katherine's lips.

"I'm sorry."

Meanwhile, in a limestone cavern under the streets of Paris, Klaus kicks at Annalise's desiccated corpse with frustration.

Every inch of the room has been torn apart. The stuffing from the furniture drifts across the floor like snow, littered with snapped bits of wood. He has searched this room and the surrounding tunnels high and low, but all he has found are the desiccated corpses of two female vampires; there isn't an inkling of where Elena was taken or if she was ever here at all.

"Marco!" he shouts. Marco drops the chair he is currently ripping the stuffing from.

"Yes?"

"We're going." Klaus survey's the room one last time. "It's time to call Victor. I believe a demonstration is order."

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! If you like, or don't like this story please do leave a review, I would love to hear your thoughts even if you don't care for it. Special thanks to Skye for the excellent beta work and to lateVMlover for her continued encouragement. I will hopefully see you all soon for Chapter Nineteen!