Chapter 19

This is the deep and dying breath of
This love that we've been working on

Damon swayed back and forth in the bedroom, a now silent Sawyer resting peacefully in his arms. He'd tried to set him down on the bed a few times or tell Stefan that he was calm now, but every time he stopped talking, Sawyer immediately started to whimper. This caused him to start talking again, afraid to allow him to reach ear-splitting levels of crying again.

"I don't know how healthy you are for my ego, kid. You are far too interested in my voice. It's really not special. No one can know that I think that, but it's really kind of bland. And you can't say my stories are interesting, because they're really not. Your dad wasn't fun enough for that. And Elena, well, those are just depressing and that's no good. So, I really don't know why you're so fascinated with me." Sawyer gurgled in response, and Damon nodded his head. "Yes, that makes perfect sense. I understand everything now."

For some reason, he was the secret weapon today, the only thing that could get Sawyer to stop crying for more than two minutes. Stefan and Caroline were apparently perfectly content in the living room, for they hadn't come back here once since they'd left. Hell, he probably wouldn't come back either if he'd spent forever trying to get his kid to calm down, only to have it finally happen when he'd left the room. He'd stay gone for hours.

Well, he said he would, but he didn't really know, did he? It wasn't like he had a child that granted him with such knowledge about how he would handle anything. That chance had been taken from him, and he didn't know if he'd ever want to give himself that chance again. Maybe Elena had been right when they got into that fight the night of the charity event that seemed to seal their fate. Oh, who was he kidding? He didn't know anything. His assumptions were just shots in the dark at this point.

"Damon." He turned at the sound of Stefan quietly saying his name. His brother was standing in the doorway, cell phone in hand. "Phone."

"Who is it?"

"Your fiancée, the woman you're supposed to marry in just over an hour." He held out the phone then and walked further into the room.

"Why didn't she call me?"

"She did, but you didn't answer."

"What does she want?"

"I don't know, Damon," Stefan said, exasperated by the questions. "I didn't know you had a list of required things I should ask her. Why don't you just call her back and see?"

"Whatever, Stefan," he sighed. "I'm a little busy with your son right now. I don't really have time to talk at the moment."

"You know she'll just keep calling back until she talks to you." His brother was right. She wouldn't give up, not this easily, at least. It was why he'd fallen for her. The persistence she had was just that attractive. Hell, it still was. Just because Elena had come in and twisted up everything in his head didn't mean he'd suddenly forgotten why he was scheduled to be married today.

"Okay, give me the phone." He held his hand out and Stefan placed the phone gently in his hand. He pressed her name in the call list and held the phone to his ear.

Two, short rings later, he heard her voice on the other end of the line. "You'd tell me if you were calling off the wedding wouldn't you?"

"What?" he sputtered. "Why would you even ask that?" Today wasn't really going how he'd planned, not by a long shot, but how would she know that things weren't as they should be?

"I saw the pictures, Damon. I know she was there." Pictures? Photographers were waiting outside of the hotel?

"It was nothing. She's gone."

He could hear her sigh on the other end. "You'd tell me if it wasn't, right?"

"I would. You know I would."

"So, why haven't you left for the church?"

"Jesus, you're keeping tabs on me?" Stefan shot him a warning look. Sawyer couldn't even speak yet, and Damon already had to watch his language.

"My bridesmaids won't turn off the TV! This isn't exactly my idea of a perfect wedding day."

"Okay, look, I'm sorry." He softened the tone of his voice as he heard her on the verge of panic. "We haven't left yet because Sawyer has been crying all day. We've only just gotten him calmed down."

"You're really not backing out?" she whispered.

"I will be there, I promise. You just have to trust me, Andie."

"Salvatore," a highly amused feminine voice stopped Damon in his tracks. "What's the matter? Can't give an old friend a hug?"

Smiling, he turned around, dropping Elena's hand. "That depends, where is this old friend you speak of?"

The woman laughed and smacked him lightly on the chest. "Asshole."

"Looks like they're letting just anyone in these days." He warmly embraced her. "I haven't seen you in years."

She smiled and pulled away from him. "Your wedding to be exact."

"Oh god," he groaned, "let's not talk about that."

"So," she looked over at Elena, causing him to realize he had forgotten to make introductions.

"Right," he reached out and grabbed Elena's hand again, "Elena this is Andie. We went to college together. Andie, this is my girlfriend Elena."

"Nice to meet you." Andie excitedly held her hand out to shake Elena's. "Any woman that can get Damon to commit is a strong woman."

Elena timidly shook Andie's hand, obviously off-balance from Andie's bright personality. "Nice to meet you too." She looked at Damon. "Caroline and Stefan just walked in. I'll be back."

"Okay." He began to lean forward to kiss her on the cheek, but quickly thought better of it and simply smiled. "Tell Stefan I said he didn't use enough hair gel."

Elena quickly ran off to her best friend, leaving him with an intrigued Andie. "You certainly have a type," she giggled.

"Stop it," he scolded her. "She's nothing like Katherine. She's just having a rough day." The lie fell easily from his lips; just like it did every other time he said it. Any time someone mentioned Elena's less than enthused behavior, he automatically made up some excuse about her having a rough day. Her aunt was sick. Something happened at work. She couldn't see his brother for his birthday. Before long he was going to start inventing relatives for her.

"Okay," Andie said, but her tone indicated she didn't believe a word he said.

"Besides, I don't think I'd be knocking my type if I were you. We did date for almost two years."

"Yeah, I still maintain that they were pumping hallucinogenic drugs through the air ducts. I wasn't in my right mind."

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes, "I'm the best you've ever had an you know it."

Her smile softened and her gaze grew momentarily distant. "We had some good times."

"We had fun."

He had met Andie his sophomore year of college and they'd quickly developed a close friendship that developed into a full-fledged relationship during their junior year.

She shook her head, an amused smile on her face. "God," she grabbed the lapels of his suit and straightened them out, "Look at you."

"What?" he asked.

"I don't know. You just look so different."

"A lot has happened since Katherine. Besides, we're almost 30. Had to grow up sometime."

"Speak for yourself, Salvatore. I'm only 25."

"Keep telling yourself that," he laughed. He hadn't seen Andie in years and it felt good to talk to her after so long. They'd always been better as friends than lovers. They could have conversations that lasted for hours. "So, where have you been? You still in Washington?"

"Nope," she shook her head, "Moved to the city to work for the New York Times."

"So, you got your dream job?"

"Investigative journalist and all." She smiled broadly at her words. From the moment he'd met her, she'd wanted to be an investigative journalist for the Times. "What about you? Are you still working for your dad?"

"I wasn't aware I had any other options."

"You have options, Damon," she sighed. "You just choose not to take them."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he quietly demanded.

Andie sighed and affectionately rolled her eyes. "It means, you spend most of your time rebelling, but when it comes down to it, you do what is expected of you. You went to Yale and majored in business. You came home and worked for your father. You go to all the functions and balls that you're supposed to. You even got married."

"To someone not from the Upper East Side and then got divorced. I don't follow the rules that well, Andie."

"You do better than you think." She stared intently at his face, her eyes roaming over his pale skin. "You look tired," she quietly told him.

"I average 70 hours a week. I am tired."

"Not in that way," she clarified. "You look like you've aged ten years since your wedding."

"Go through a very public divorce that costs you twenty million dollars and let me see how young and nubile you look."

Of course, his divorce wasn't the hardest thing he'd gone through in the past few years. No, he was currently stuck in one of the roughest periods of his life. A miscarriage wasn't exactly something one blurted out to someone they hadn't spoken with in over three years. He trusted Andie with a lot when he was in college, and he still considered her a friend, but he couldn't share this.

Andie grabbed hold of his hand and dragged him to a table off to the side of the room, allowing them some small form of privacy. She pulled her seat close to his and leaned forward, her eyes locked steadily on his. "Something else is going on. The divorce wasn't exactly hard, and you know it. Once you made the decision to get divorced, the process was just semantics. There's something else here. I know you."

"Can't you put your reporter hat away for a night?"

"Not if you're hiding something from me."

"How about this?" He rested his hands on her knees and leaned forward. "You leave me be tonight and we tell jokes about how horrible we were as a couple, and I'll let you interrogate me Monday, over a cup of coffee. If you're nice, I might know of a particularly interesting story that could get you in favor with your bosses."

At the mention of a possible story, Andie went on high alert. If she ever got whiff of the possibility of something juicy, she was like a dog with a bone. Nothing could distract her from her target once she'd honed in on one. With her head tilted inquisitively to the side, she questioned, "What's it about?"

"Forbes 500 Company and very illegal activities while on corporate retreats," he told her quietly. "Promise to leave me alone for the evening, and I'll tell you how that all works out to be one damning story for a very important company."

She mulled over the idea in her head, debating whether he was telling the truth or not. After a minute, she felt she'd thought it over appropriately and nodded her head. "You've got a deal. This deal requires you to tell me why you really look like you're ready to finish off a bottle of your favorite scotch and jump off the balcony."

"I think you'll just find that my life is boring and I work a lot."

Her eyes drifted to through the crowd, finding Elena standing somberly next to Caroline and Stefan. "I think I'll find that you're lying about something." Elena turned, almost as if she could feel Andie's gaze on her, and her eyes darkened as she took in his close proximity to Andie. "I also think you need to go spend some time with your girlfriend – preferably before she comes and rips my hair out."

"Elena's not jealous." Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from the seething brunette across the room, and shrugged his shoulders. "She's going through some family stuff."

Andie grabbed her purse from the table and rose to her feet. She slid her hand over his hair and down the side of his face. "You're such a bad liar." A small smile gracing her face, she leaned down and pressed her lips softly on his cheek, then whispered, "Lie to me on Monday and I'll throw coffee in your face."

"Andie!" Stefan formed a shadow over Damon as he approached the table. He wore a smile, but it was not open and warm like usual. "I haven't seen you in years." He pulled on Andie's arm to hug her himself and then quickly moved his body in front of Damon. "How have you been?"

"Me?" Andie grinned, pulling back from the hug. If she knew what Stefan was doing, she made no show of it on her face. "I hear you're married, much bigger news than anything I have. Congratulations!"

"Thank you. It's been good."

"Well, I'd love to catch up," she reached out and squeezed Stefan's arm lightly, "But I need to make the rounds. I've let Damon hog too much of my time." She leaned around Stefan and smiled down at Damon. "See you on Monday. Bring me my facts!"

He waved to her as she backed away. Once she turned around, he looked up at his brother. "Subtle."

Stefan twisted around and sat down in the seat vacated by Andie. "You should be happy it was me. Elena was about to come over before I made up some excuse and cut her off before she could." He glanced over at Caroline, chatting away mindlessly to a bored Elena. "She wasn't happy about you and Andie talking."

"Please," he scoffed, "Elena doesn't care. That would require some emotion from her. She seems to be out of those at the moment."

"You two have got to figure this thing out. If not for your sanity, then do it for mine. Caroline is going to drive me crazy if you two don't get it together."

"What am I supposed to do, Stefan?" he demanded angrily. "She won't talk to me."

Stefan glanced down, a serious expression on his face. "I know you won't want to hear this, but maybe it's time to think about ending this."

"You're right," he ground out, "I don't want to hear it. How can you even suggest that?"

Stefan lifted his head and rested his arms on his legs. "How can I not?"

"I can't do that." He shook his head. "I in—" he froze, the words ready to come pouring from his mouth, but as he looked over to Elena, staring longingly out the window into the dark night sky. "I can't leave her. She needs me."

Stefan sympathetically nodded his head, but his understanding did not stop him from saying, "She needs help, Damon, professional help."

"She's not a minor, and we're not married. I can't force her to do anything. It's going to take time. She won't be like this forever."

Stefan sighed and leaned back in the chair. "I don't even know who I'm talking to anymore. This isn't you."

"I know I'm a dick, but I'm not completely heartless," he snapped, but quickly lowered his voice and said, "I can't end it, Stefan. We were going to have a child together. I want her in my life. I care about her."

"You know that you're in love with her, Damon. It's clouding your judgment."

He quickly looked away, not wanting to face his brother's pitying gaze. He couldn't deny it, but he couldn't admit it either. It wasn't a thought he much liked to acknowledge right now. It wasn't exactly a ball of fun to sit and think about the fact that the woman you're in love with is pushing you away with everything she has and you're powerless to stop her. It hurt like a bitch, and he hated it.

"What do you want me to say?" he finally questioned. "How I feel about her doesn't matter. It doesn't change the situation if I love her or if I just care about her. So, why do you care?"

"Because a year ago, I was sitting in this same place, watching Katherine put you through hell. Is it so bad that I don't want to see that again?"

"My relationship with Elena is nothing like my relationship with Katherine. We'll figure it out."

"When are you going to care about yourself?" He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "You look like death. Caroline is one bad day away from kidnapping you and force feeding you a bottle of Ambien."

"That would require Caroline letting me know she cares. We both know that's never going to happen."

"She cares about you, Damon. Elena may be her best friend, but that doesn't mean she can't be worried about you too."

Damon rolled his eyes. "She cares about me because I'm your brother, and she has to. And nobody needs to be worried about me." He rose to his feet and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. It might not be his choice of alcohol, but it would have to do in a pinch. "You would all do well to back the hell off. I'm fine."

In one sip, he finished the glass of champagne and slammed it onto the table. Everyone was worried about him. They all cared. They wanted him to be okay. They just wanted what was best for him. Yet, the one person who he actually needed to feel that way and say those things was the one who didn't give a damn, at least, not like she should. She was lost in the sea of her grief, refusing to cross the small distance and take hold of his hand. This left him to fend for himself in the dark waters surrounding him, with no way out.

The fact was, even if he did want to lean on those around him, he simply couldn't. They could feel empathy and compassion, but there was no true understanding. They had no ability to grasp what it was he and Elena were going through. They'd built something on the belief that they would soon bring a child into this world, and when that was shattered, what they'd built came crashing down around it. He believed they could repair what was now broken, but Elena had to want that. Right now, all she wanted was to give up on life.

"You know I can't do that." Stefan snatched Damon's arm when he turned to leave the table, effectively holding the elder Salvatore in place. "If this were me, you would have barged into my place a month ago and kicked my ass all over my living room until I got it together. My methods may not be so extreme, but I can't sit here and do nothing. You're my brother."

Damon looked down in disdain at Stefan's hand gripping his arm. With a sigh, he pulled his arm from his brother's grasp. "I'm your older brother; it's my job to tell you how to live your life. As the baby of the family, it's your job to sit down, shut up, and stay out of my business."

"You lost that luxury when you started banging my wife's best friend. This is bigger than you."

Damon stepped toward Stefan, who was now on his feet, and held his face just inches from his brother's. "Stay out of it, or I'll make you stay out of it."

With the threat hanging between the two of them, he turned and walked away. "This isn't how you fix it, Damon," Stefan called after him, drawing attention from the other guests around the room, but he paid it no attention. He never handled things the way Stefan wanted him to. This was no different than everything else in his life. It was what it was.

Elena's eyes were trained on him as he continued to walk away from Stefan, but he didn't go to her. Tonight wasn't just about socializing, he had business that he needed to handle, and he couldn't do that with Elena next to him. Caroline would have to distract her for the evening. She seemed surprised by this when he veered off in another direction, but she didn't come to him.

In fact, Elena did not come to him for the rest of the evening. He spent the next three hours bouncing from conversation to conversation, a drink firmly in his hands at all times. At some point throughout the evening, he ran into the Andie again and most of his evening was spent by her side.

When midnight was drawing near, he found himself outside with her, holding his hand out for one of her cigarettes. She eyed his hand suspiciously. "I thought Katherine made you quit."

It was true, he'd been a smoker in college, but when he met Katherine, she'd told him they couldn't be together if he smoked. She never said why she had such a grand distaste for the habit, but he remembered it as being one of the traits that made him really begin to fall for her. However, once they split up he had turned back to his old vice in times of extreme stress. With how his personal life was going right now, he'd be a full-fledged smoker by the end of the month.

"Well, lucky for me, I'm not married anymore." He pulled the pack of cigarettes from her hand and smirked. "Thank you."

"You're gonna give yourself cancer," she teased lightly as she held out her flaming lighter.

A part of him was tempted to say that at least he'd know what he was up against. He never has any idea what he's up against when he walks through his front door every evening. Some days Elena doesn't talk to him. He almost believed those were the easier days. Other times, she'd get mad and yell, find any reason to pick a fight. Sometimes it would work. Sometimes, he'd leave and spend the night on Alaric's couch. When he looked at his life from that point of view, he wondered how he could possibly talk himself into still being with Elena. It wasn't that simple though. For all the crappy days they had now, she was still the girl he'd locked eyes with across that dim bar back in July. She was still the girl that made him feel something after Katherine had ripped so much away from him. He knew that girl was still in there, and he just had to figure things out long enough to get that girl back.

Instead, he stumbled forward, the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed were now running fully through his veins. He leaned against her, probably closer than he should, but he could use the added support. "We both know cancer wouldn't kill me. It would give my father far too much satisfaction. However, watching me rot away for months would definitely provide some ample payback.

"Stop that," Andie chastised him. "Don't act like this."

Damon took a long drag from the cigarette between his fingers, finding some foreign comfort from the slow burn that drifted through his lungs. "No, you don't get to do this. We're not 22 and at some college party that got a little out of hand. You don't get to lecture me about how I'm acting and then drag me home. We don't do this anymore."

"Then where's your girlfriend to do it? You've passed your limit, and now it's time for you to go home."

"My girlfriend?" he scoffed. "She barely exists. I'm starting to think she's a figment of my imagination, like I'm in the world of Fight Club, only I'm not fighting, so I guess that comparison doesn't work well, but you get what I'm saying."

"Yes," she laughed tightly, shifting to better support his weight, "Your drunken rambling could not make more sense if you tried."

"I think there's a joke in there that I should take offense to."

This time her laugh was one of humor, albeit strained humor. "I think you'd be right on that." She grunted and got his arm thrown over her shoulder. "Okay, let's at least try to find your brother. He's not a figment of your imagination is he?"

"My life would have been a lot easier if he was. I certainly would have gotten laid a lot more in high school."

"I'll just take your word for it." They were almost to the door that would lead them back into the grand room that was now thinning out. Where there were once over 500 people milling about, by his calculations, there seemed to be only 200 left.

Caroline appeared at that moment, her blue eyes searching the terrace curiously and going wide when she spotted Damon slowly coming toward the door. She rushed outside and appeared far closer to his face than she would like. "What happened to him?" she demanded as she grabbed his chin in her hand and took a good look at the state he was in.

"Get his brother," Andie instructed. "This will be much easier with Stefan. Tell him we've reached the bitter mortality level."

"The what?" she shrieked, like Andie had spoken to her in a completely foreign language.

"Just get him," Andie demanded. "He'll know what it means." She sighed as Caroline ran off on her mission. "You know, I thought these days were over when we graduated. I don't have the proper muscles like I used to have to hold all your weight. Not to mention, I think you've gained a few pounds."

"Pssh!" she scoffed. "I am as smokin' hot as I was when you met me. Wanna see?" Without warning, he pulled his shirt from his pants and lifted it high on his torso for her to see his sculpted muscles.

"Oh god," Andie groaned and tried to shove his shirt down. "Get a few drinks in you and a man suddenly reverts to a little boy. You just want to run around naked."

"Clothes are constricting."

"They're a blessing."

"Damon," Stefan rushed onto the terrace, a worried look on his face. Caroline came out soon after with a frustrated Elena in tow. "I can't believe you got drunk."

"It was either that or throw myself off the roof. I thought you'd be more fond of option A."

"I'm fond of option sober Damon," he grumbled as he came to his side and hoisted Damon's free arm over his shoulders. "Please tell me that Dad hasn't seen you."

"Nope." He popped the P at the end of the word, smirking amusedly at the sound. "You proud?"

"I think that's aiming a little high." He looked around Damon to Andie, who was still standing on his other side. "Thanks for taking care of him, Andie. I can handle it from here."

"You sure?" she questioned.

"Yeah, I've had plenty of practice." She nodded and quietly made her exit, ignoring Elena's murderous gaze as she left. "Okay," Stefan sighed once she was gone. "Let's get you in your limo, shall we? I already called your driver."

Stefan went about sneaking Damon through the emptying grand banquet room, somehow enlisting Caroline as the distraction for the event. Soon enough, he had Damon away from the guests and riding down the elevator. Elena was silent next to them, but her arms were crossed tightly across her chest as her foot tapped anxiously on the floor. His evening probably wasn't going to end well.

"How much did you have to drink tonight?" Caroline asked, breaking the tense silence in the elevator.

"Not enough to make your voice bearable."

She rolled her eyes. "Charming."

The elevator doors opened and they all shuffled into the hotel lobby that was mainly empty. He could see his driver getting out of the limo that had just pulled up, rushing around the car to be prepared when Damon exited the hotel.

"You sure are quiet back there, Elena." Damon turned his head to look at Elena, who was following closely behind him and Stefan. "Nothing to add?"

"Not right now."

"Let's just get you into the car, okay?" Stefan interrupted. The driver held the door open for Stefan to help Damon into the limo as they exited the hotel. Once, he had Damon situated in the limo, he turned to Elena. "Do you need me to come back with you?"

Elena leaned around Stefan to find Damon lying across the backseat. "No, I can handle it. Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Okay, just call me if you need anything. Most of all, do not let him drink anymore. He will try."

"Trust me, he's not getting anything else." She smiled tightly at Stefan and Damon dropped his head onto the seat, listening as they bid their goodbyes. Soon, she was hitting his legs as he climbed into the car. "Feet," she demanded.

Dutifully, he lifted them up enough for her to get into the car, but immediately dropped them onto her lap. "Hope this isn't uncomfortable for you," he sneered.

Elena sighed and closed her eyes. "Stop, Damon," she whispered hoarsely. "Just stop."

"Why?" he questioned incredulously. "We both know you're mad at me. Just admit it."

"I'm not going to fight with you when you're drunk."

"I'm not as drunk as you think I am."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Your brother had to help you to the car. You're beyond drunk."

"At least I got to have a decent conversation with one person tonight." Elena's jaw tightened at the comment and he knew he'd hit a nerve. She said nothing though, just stared straight ahead, her eyes never sliding over to glance at him.

That was how they remained the rest of the trip home. Truthfully, that was how they were most days. They lived in near silence other than when they were fighting. There hadn't been a real conversation shared between them since the miscarriage. He used to try, but once you've been shot down enough times, you simply give up. He'd given up a while ago. Not on her, just on the talking.

Now, he was hanging onto the hope that if he could just hold on long enough, Elena would find a way to pull herself from this. At the very least, he hoped that she'd decide she wanted to try. Right now, she had no desire to try anything. She spent most of every day on the couch, and most of her evenings at work. Her job was the only thing she hadn't given up on. She probably turned to work for the same reason he did – it was the only real distraction they could find.

Granted, his distraction didn't really mean that he was doing a good job at work. His father had made sure to make that abundantly clear on his birthday. He was miserable each and every day, and his quality of work had suffered. It wasn't enough to lose any clients, but everyone noticed a difference. If he couldn't figure out a way to fix it before numbers started being affected, he'd be in a world of trouble. It was okay to suck royally at your job as long as money was not affected. The second the money started dwindling would be the second his father kicked him out on his ass.

Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world – not working for his father. He liked what he did, as much as he loathed to admit sometimes, but he also wondered if he could really hold his own in an arena where the keys had not been handed to him on a silver platter.

"Did you ever date Andie?" Elena blurted out as they rode up in the elevator to their floor. The rest of the ride home had been silent and he'd allowed himself to get lost in thought, thinking his night really was over. However, now on the elevator, it appeared he was mistaken. She turned to look at him, a curious look in her eyes. "Did you two have a relationship?"

"Why would you ask that?" he questioned.

His response did not suit her and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Answer the question."

The elevator doors opened and he stepped out. "Yes," he answered, his back to her. "Andie and I dated in college."

"How long?"

Damon rolled his eyes and threw an annoyed look at her over his shoulder. "Why does it matter? I dated her before I even met Katherine." When she glared at him, he sighed and said, "Almost two years."

He held the front door open for Elena to walk in. As she breezed past him, she threw out, "She wants you."

He blew out an amused laugh. She would wait until they were home to pick a fight. "Andie hasn't wanted me since we were in college. We're just friends."

Elena turned on her heel and marched over to him. She pressed her hands softly against the lapels of his suit and ran the material through her fingers. "When's the last time Caroline did this to you?"

"Never," he smirked tightly, "We have a strict no touching policy."

"Okay, what about Ava?"

"Ava fixes my suit all the time."

"When's the last time she wiped something off of your mouth for you?" she demanded while taking a step back.

"Fine, you want to play this game, let's play." He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the table in the entryway. He didn't feel so drunk anymore. His inhibitions were lowered and he'd probably say something he'd well regret soon enough, but if she wanted to do this, he'd give her what she wanted. "We'll pretend Andie wants me, as you so eloquently put it. So what? I didn't do anything wrong. Why am I the one in trouble?"

"Because you spent all damn night with her, as she ran her hands all over you, laughing at every word you said. She couldn't take her eyes off of you. Hell, you were draped all over her when I came outside."

"Heaven forbid I carry a conversation on with someone instead of spending my evening pouting in a corner! And cut the bullshit, Elena! You ditched me five minutes into the party!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means!" he shouted. "You haven't carried on a decent conversation with anyone in months. Do you know how many excuses I've had to make for you? I'm two events away from killing off your grandparents."

"Go for it! Not like they're alive anyway. While you're at it, why don't you just tell them my parents died too? I've got plenty of dead family members for you to draw inspiration from."

"I have to do something to explain why you act like a raging bitch to everyone who approaches you."

"Hell, why don't we just tell everyone the truth; Damon knocked up his poor girlfriend and then she went and lost the baby!"

Damon gasped and shook his head. He looked at the woman standing in front of him, unsure of whom she was. This wasn't the Elena he met that night in the bar. This wasn't the woman that had captivated him from the very first conversation they'd ever had as she had bared her soul on the side of that pool that breezy summer night. Now, she was hollow and cold, unwilling to share anything.

"Who are you?"

She laughed humorlessly. "I don't know, Damon." She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "Isn't that how we got in this mess to begin with? I didn't know what I wanted, so I couldn't give Matt what he needed from me. I had no idea what I wanted for my future, so began this whole thing with you. I didn't actually know if I wanted our child, so it died."

"Elena," he began softly, taking a slow step toward her, the wind deflating from his angered sails, "You didn't cause the miscarriage."

"Then why can't they give me a reason?" she demanded. "All my doctor told me was that these things happen; it can be a sign of something wrong in the pregnancy, but they can't actually give me a reason!"

"That doesn't mean it was you."

"Do you know the rate for a miscarriage after you hear the heartbeat?"

He lowered his head and quietly said, "No."

"Three percent," she numbly whispered. "After you hear the heartbeat, the threat of a miscarriage drops to three percent. Odds were that I shouldn't have lost that baby, but I did. The only thing I can think of is that my body handled what my brain was saying I didn't want and couldn't do. That's all I've got."

He went to her and grabbed her firmly on her arms. "You have to stop," he pleaded. "Blaming yourself and shutting everyone out – you have to stop."

"Why?" she spat.

"Because I can't do it!" he shouted, not caring that he was so close to her face he could feel her breaths against his face. He couldn't hold it in. For months he'd buried it all because there was no one to share it with. She'd been closed off to him and he'd bottled it up, waiting for the day that she'd be ready to lean on him and let him do the same in return. He couldn't do it anymore though. It hurt too much. "I can't live like this anymore. I live with a ghost and I can't handle it! You barely even look at me, much less speak to me. When I told you I needed you two months ago, you told me you couldn't, but you have to." He choked on something – perhaps desperation – in the back of his throat. "I can't do this alone."

"God," she shoved him away from her, "Why can't you just see that I can't do that? I'm trying to deal with my own problems here! Why can't you do the same? I'm not your mom, Damon! I'm nobody's mom! That's the problem!"

"I don't need my mom or for you to be a mom! I need you!"

She pounded her fists against her chest. "And who am I? Huh? I have a degree from Columbia University. Yet, I make my money dressing up in skimpy outfits to serve drinks at some dive bar. I was going to be a mom, but now I'm not. I applied to all of those graduate schools after Matt and me were in the air, but I haven't even bothered to think about why I'd go back to school. I'm just a 22-year-old girl who got myself in a mess that I'm not supposed to be in. So tell me, who am I?"

"You are Elena Gilbert, sister to Jeremy Gilbert. Your best friends are Bonnie Bennett and Caroline Salvatore. You are Jenna Fell's favorite niece. You are my girlfriend." In spite of the past failures, he approached her again and held her face tightly in his hands. "You are an amazing writer, who is confused about what she wants to do with that right now. You're scared. Every person in the world goes through periods where they're scared, and I'm scared too. You're not alone."

"I'm not scared, Damon," she responded coldly. "I'm a million and one things right now, but I'm not scared."

"Then what are you? Tell me," he pleaded with her, clawing at the chance to open the door to conversation.

She pulled away from him and began to walk slowly around the couch, her fingers running softly over the fabric. "I'm confused because I don't know how any of this has happened. One day I was working a bar and living in a five-floor walkup. The next, I'm living in a penthouse that amasses two floors of space and overlooks Central Park West." She turned to glance out at the view of city at night. "I'm sad, because I started to want the baby and then that was just taken from me. I'm tired, because my brain never stops. It never stops going. I'm annoyed because I can barely get a moment of peace without Caroline or Bonnie or Jenna or Jeremy or You or even Stefan in my face, poking and prodding at me like I'm a science experiment, where all options are being tested to see which one will finally wake the beast. Most of all, I'm just angry. I'm really fucking angry." Her voice turned cold and she swung around to face him.

"Good," he breathed out, feeling a ray of hope building within him. She was saying something, words that he could use. He could do fighting. He could do with her getting her anger out. It would help. "What are you angry about?"

She laughed completely devoid of emotion. "What am I angry about? I had a doctor tell me everything was fine when they really weren't. Because days later, I was looking down at waves of blood gushing down my legs, while it felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. Something obviously wasn't right, but nobody could tell me that! And then, they could never tell me what caused the damn thing to begin with. So, I'm a little angry at doctors right now."

"Good, what else?"

"I'm angry because I've been dragged up and down the Upper East Side in the past two months to countless dinners and balls and functions and galas. Where I'm supposed to make conversation with phony bitches who can't stand me, and not notice the businessmen talking to my chest most of the night. I'm angry because your father is right. I ruined your life. I wreaked havoc on it. That's not what I'm most angry about though. What I'm most angry about is you."

He reeled back in surprise. "Me?"

"Yes you."

"Why?"

"Because you just won't give up," she sneered. "The girl you met in the bar is gone. She's not coming back, but you just won't let it go. Do you know what it's like to have someone look at you every day with desperation flooding their eyes, their body sending off waves of hope that things will return to normal? It's hell. Living with you is exhausting. Things aren't going to go back to normal."

"I don't want to be normal!" Damon shouted. "Jesus, Elena, our whole relationship practically began as an affair! We've never been normal. I just, I want you. I don't need you to be the same. I know that's not going to happen, but I need you to try."

"I can't," she said stonily, his outburst having no affect on her.

"You don't want to," he declared, shoving a finger in her direction. "You want to be the victim." He could feel the regret immediately cross his features, but it was too late. He'd said it.

Her hand shot out before he knew what was happening and a loud slap reverberated through the room as her hand contacted with his cheek. His head whipped to the side, caught off guard by the sudden act. He remained frozen; shocked at the turn the argument had just taken. Elena gasped in horror as she stared at him, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. "Oh god," she choked from behind her hands.

Slowly, he began to back away from her, holding his hands in front of him in surrender. He looked at her and shook his head as tears pooled in her eyes. "I'm going out."

"What?" Her face fell as she watched him walk toward the door. "Where are you going?"

"Someplace that isn't here. I can't do this right now."

She rushed after him, the tears now falling from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"No," he shook his head. "Obviously we're not doing anything healthy right now. I need to go."

"Don't leave," she pleaded, "I'm sorry. Please don't leave."

Exhausted and feeling defeated, he shook his head. "I've had too much to drink and you're upset. It's not a good combination. I can't do this right now."

"I didn't mean it," she cried. "I'm not angry with you. I don't hate living with you. I didn't mean to hit you. I'm sorry. Please don't go."

"I won't be gone for long, but I can't stay here, not right now." He could see the pain etched across her face, but he didn't allow it to change his mind. They couldn't be in the same room right now. They'd already said and done too much for one night, and he needed to put a stop to it.

She shook her head slowly and whispered, "Okay."

"Don't wait up." He grabbed his keys from the entryway table and walked out the front door. He stopped in the hallway, not sure of where he would even go. He couldn't go to his brother or Alaric, they didn't need to be involved in this. He truly didn't need to go drink anymore. So what did that leave for him?

Torn and confused, he slid to the floor, his back resting against the door. Through the wood, he could hear the muffled crying sounds coming from inside the penthouse. A part of him wanted to get up and go straight back inside, tell her that everything was fine, but they would both know it was a lie. Nothing was fine, no matter what he told anyone or tried to make himself believe. They'd completely imploded and now they were just rifting through the debris of what was once their relationship.

He couldn't walk away though. He couldn't do it. Some days he wondered if he'd reach the point with their relationship that he reached with Katherine, but the day wasn't coming. He couldn't seem to give up on the belief that things would get better. It wasn't like his marriage, where Katherine hadn't had a reason to act the way she did. Elena had every reason to be miserable and hate the world right now, even if it was torture for him to take every day.

Long after Elena's crying ceased inside he penthouse, Damon remained in the hallway, unmoving and lost in a whirlwind of emotions. He didn't know what to do anymore. No choice seemed like the right choice. All he could do was wait and hope.

When his legs finally went to sleep, he decided that he should go back inside. Even though he'd told Elena not to wait up, she was probably still wide awake, chasing after the elusive beast that was sleep. She fought with it at night and fell prey to it during the day. Sure enough, as he crept quietly into their dark bedroom, he found her awake, staring up at the ceiling. When he heard her, she sat up, and he could see the tears that stained her face.

"You're back," she whispered.

"I told you I would be."

"I know, I just thought you might not come back until tomorrow."

Unable to resist the stricken look on her face any longer, he quickly crossed the room and climbed on the bed. He crawled to her and cupped her face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did."

Her bottom lip trembled at his words. "I shouldn't have hit you." With shaking fingers, she lifted them to gently touch the red mark on his cheek. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he denied, "I've taken worse." Truthfully, it did still sting. The diamond band of the ring she'd worn on her right hand had caught his cheek and broken the skin, but he wouldn't point it out to her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized tearfully. "I'm so sorry." Suddenly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against the mark on his cheek. "I didn't mean it. I promise I didn't."

As her lips traveled over his face, he knew he should end this before it started. As much as he missed sex and as good as it may be, they weren't ready for that yet. It wasn't going to solve anything. But when her lips touched his, all rational thoughts fled his brain. He hadn't touched her like this in months and he missed it. He missed her. Her thoughts seemed to be on the same page as his and soon she was pulling him down on the bed to cover her body with his.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him tightly to her, and moaning softly when his lips found the sensitive spot on her neck. Just because it had been like a lifetime since he'd touched her didn't mean her body wasn't etched into his memory. He knew every curve of her body and just how to touch them to drive her wild.

"Elena," he groaned, when her hands found their way to his pants and began undoing them.

"Let's make a baby," she breathed against his skin. He pulled her hands away from the button of his pants and rolled off of her. "What are you doing?"

Sighing, he moved across the bed and dropped his legs over the side. "Don't say things like that."

She scrambled after him and slid off the bed so she could sit in front of him on the floor. She rested on her knees between his legs and looked up at him. "Let's do it."

"We can't," he told her softly, trying to keep his voice calm and easy. "You know what the doctor said. She told us we had to wait at least three months."

"That's just a couple weeks away. I know my body, Damon. I can handle it."

"A few hours ago you were telling me that you thought you lost the baby because you didn't really want it." He pointed this out to her slowly and concisely, trying to get her to see reason and drop this before it could go further.

She looked hurt by this reminder. "Don't you want a baby with me."

"Don't do that," he bit out between gritted teeth. "Don't turn this around on me."

"What's wrong, then?"

"I can't do that again," he choked out. "I can't get excited and start planning for things, and then find you in a pool of your own blood. I can't see the look on your face when the doctor tells you that it's gone. I can't do it. I can't." He was shaking his head, pleading for understanding from her, the acceptance of his stance. She didn't really mean what she was saying. She was emotional and scared. She didn't want to really get pregnant.

She stared up at him for several long moments, pain flashing through her eyes. He didn't know how she had expected him to react, but it apparently hadn't been like this. "Okay," she finally said and stood up. "I won't ask again."

"I'm not saying no forever," he explained as she walked around to her side of the bed. "I'm just saying it's not the right time. We're in no place to have a child."

"We weren't in the place to have a child when I got pregnant before, but you said we'd figure it out," she murmured, but didn't press anymore. Her body rigid with tension, she got back into bed and situated herself beneath the covers.

He'd handled it wrongly, just as he always seemed to do. He should have found better words, or an easier way to get his point across. Feeling a need to try and fix it, he moved to her side of the bed again. He hovered above her as she stared at the ceiling above, but when his face blocked her gaze, she allowed her eyes to meet his. The tears were shining brightly in his eyes as he looked down at her, trying to find the right words to express his feelings to her. Knowing of nothing else, he finally whispered, "I love you."