Disclaimer: I don't own James Cameron's Titanic or the Vampire Diaries. I do own my lovely little pencil that I jot down my ideas with.
Elena sat at the table, surrounded by people deep in conversation. Her fiancé and mother laughed at something Lady Duff-Gordon said, but she didn't hear. She was barely listening to them. The pointless chatter was making her ill.
If she married Klaus, her whole life was planned ahead of her. There would be parties and cotillions, dinners and lunches with many courses and rich, gourmet foods. There would always be the same narrow-minded people with the same mindless chatter. She felt as if she were standing at the edge of a great escarpment with no one to pull her back or notice or care, because she was another face in the crowd. She had seen the second and third classes mingle amongst each other. They all had a genuine bond between one another, a kindred association. Things weren't as much about money as they were taking care of each other in those classes.
Beneath the table, Elena held the tiny fork from her crab salad. She poked the crab-fork into the delicate underside of her arm, hard enough to draw blood, just to remind herself to feel, that she was still there, that she was still human and alive and could feel pain.
She excused herself from dinner and walked along the corridor to her room. A steward walking the opposite direction greeted her and she nodded and smiled back at him, perfectly composed. She entered her room.
Elena stared at the large vanity mirror from the middle of her room. She just stood there. Her eyes lacked luster. Her face looked paler than normal. Suddenly, as if a switch was flipped, with a primal cry, she clawed at her throat, yanking a pearl necklace off and watching the beads exploded across the room. She yanked her hair out of its fancy do and yanked her awful, toe-pinching shoes off and threw them at the wall. She flung the handheld mirror at the vanity, letting it shatter. Turning, she took off out of the room.
Elena ran along the B deck promenade, hair flying out like a fan behind her, tears streaming down her face. She was so angry, so impossibly angry. She was infuriated, shaking with emotions passing through her veins much too quickly for her to identify. A strolling couple watched her race by, stunned at such an emotional display, especially in public.
Damon lay on a bench at the ship's stern. He was smoking a cigarette and thinking about his father and mother. Alaric stood at the railing, deep in thought about a long lost, childhood love. After Damon's stunt the first day aboard the board, Alaric didn't let Damon out of his sight, not really anyways.
Hearing a gate clang open, Damon turned, not bothering to call to Alaric lest alert the distraught girl. The three were the only ones on the deck, except for Quartermaster Rowe, twenty feet above on the docking bright catwalk. Whether she didn't see the two men or ignored them, Damon didn't know. The girl slammed into the base of the flagpole, clutching it to her, panting. She stared out at the black water rippling out and something seemed to snap within her.
She started climbing over the railing, hitching her long skirt up to her knees to clumsily climb. Her feet were slick in only her stockings as she turned so that her body was facing out at the blackness below like a backwards figurehead with the huge gold colored letters below her spelling out the name of Titanic. Massive propellers churned the Atlantic into a white foamy wake fading off into the horizon.
She held on to the railing, leaning out with her arms straightened. She looked hypnotized as she stared at the vortex below, Damon noted. Quietly as he could, he walked to her. The rushing of water below and the Union Jack's snap and flutter drowned out his near silent steps.
"Don't do it," he said softly. Her head whipped around to face him.
"Stay back! Don't you dare come any closer!"
"Take me hand," he said softly, giving her a comforting smile, "I'll pull you back in."
"No! Stay there! I'll let go! I mean it. Don't move." Damon gave a soft chuckle and shook his head.
"No you won't, or you would have already. Take my hand."
"Don't tell me what I will or will not do. You don't know me. Now go away. You're distracting me." She wiped her tears away with one hand, nearly losing balance.
"I'm sorry signorina, but I simply cannot do such a thing. You see, I'm involved now, so if you let go, I'll have to jump in after you. And that man over there, see him?" He asked, pointing to Alaric, "He'll have to jump in after me."
"Don't be so absurd. You'll both be killed." Damon slipped off his jacket, tossing it to the bench then bending to unlace his shoes.
"I'm a good swimmer. I nearly made the Olympics in '08, but then I broke my foot."
"The fall alone could kill you."
"It would hurt, but I'm more worried about how cold the water is." Elena's breath catch in her chest.
"How cold?"
"Freezing, maybe a little warmer. Ever been to Siberia?" he asked, unlacing his other shoe.
"No," she asked, mystified by his voice.
"Well, it's one of the coldest places you can go during the winter. You see, my papà, he has some friends there and my cousins were visiting with us. They're Americans, sort of. They decided to take me ice-fishing on Lake Onega and I fell through some of the ice, and that water's cold, just like it will be down there," he pulled off a shoe, "and it just hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over you body. All you can think about is the pain and if you breathe in, you breathe water." He pulled off is other shoe. "But I already told you, I don't have a choice, so that why I'm hoping you'll come back over the rail and I won't have to jump in after you."
"You're insane!" she shouted, looking down at the water in horror. Damon chuckled.
"Everyone tells me that, but with all due respect, signorina, I'm not the one hanging off the back of the ship there." He stepped closer, holding his hand out to the girl like he would his horse when he got spooked. "Give me your hand."
Elena stared at the man for some time, she didn't know how long. He was a mystery. He didn't sound Russian at all, and yet who would willingly go to Siberia during the winter. Most of Napoleon's army had frozen going into Russia in the winter. He was crazy! That was the only explanation. But then again, he had the good two sense to be on the boat rather than hanging from it.
"All right," she said, lifting one hand from the railing as Damon took it.
"I'm Damon Salvatore." She nodded. An Italian. Her voice quavered when she spoke.
"I'm Elena Flemming Gilbert."
"I'll have to have you write that down for me." She began to turn. Now that she had decided to live, she was terrified by the height. Overcome by vertigo, she shifted her footing so she faced the boat and Damon. As she began to climb, she lost footing as one foot caught her dress and the other stocking covered foot slipped off the edge of the deck.
She shrieked as she fell. Damon gripped her hand tighter and he was jerked towards the rail as Alaric came running. Elena grasped the edge of the deck with her free hand, but just barely. Alaric knelt, grabbing her hand and pulling her up, shifting so that he was holding her above the railing.
Quartermaster Rowe heard Elena's scream and headed to the ladder.
"Help! Please help!" Elena screamed in sheer terror.
"We've got you," Ric soothed, "We're not going to let you fall."
Bracing himself on the railing and watching as his friend did the same, they held on to Elena has tightly as they could. Elena tried to find a foothold on the smooth hull, but found nothing. She slipped on her evening dress and slipped back, screaming again.
Awkwardly clutching her arm, Damon gave Alaric a nod and they both yanked her back over, falling in such a way that when she fell, she dragged Alaric and Damon on top of her. And that was how Quartermaster Rowe found them.
"Here, what's all this?" He yanked Damon and Ric off of Elena, taking in her sobbing on the deck. Her dress was ripped; the hem was pushed above her knees, showing her torn stockings with no shoes. He glanced at the two steerage men, one with his jacket and shoes off, the other with his jacket unbuttoned. The first class lady was in clear distress and he immediately drew conclusions. He shouted to the two seamen racing to them, "Fetch the Master-at-Arms," before turning to Damon and Ric, "Stand back, both of you, don't move an inch!"
It felt like moments later when Damon and Alaric were both being detained by the burly Master-at-Arms. He had already handcuffed Alaric and was cuffing Damon.
"Just like Lisbon," Damon muttered to Alaric who gave Damon a nearly murderous look. "Just saying," the younger said defensively.
Klaus was furious as he stormed in front of Damon. It was apparent that he had rushed out there with Elijah and another man, Colonel Archibald Gracie, as none of them had a coat over their evening suits. The Colonel offered his brandy snifter to Elena, who was hunched over crying on a nearby bench, but she refused it. Klaus grabbed Damon by the lapels.
"What made you think you could put your dirty hands on my fiancé? Look at me, you filth." To Klaus' surprise, Damon did look up. Instead of a submissive, apologetic look of fear he'd been hoping for, he got a defiant glare from the scorn Count. "What did you think you were doing? What gave either of you the right to touch her?"
Elena jumped up. "Klaus, stop! It was an accident."
"An accident?" Klaus asked in disbelief.
"It was actually quite stupid really. I was leaning over and I slipped. I wanted to see the propellers and I slipped and would have gone over if Mr. Salvatore and Mr.-" she paused, realizing she didn't know the other man's name.
"Alaric Saltzman," the lighter haired man said. Elena nodded.
"They saved me and both nearly went over themselves."
"All to see the propellers? Elena, if I knew you had such an interest in machinery, we could have seen the ship while it was being built."
Gracie shook his head. "Women and machinery just do not mix. It's like I was saying earlier, Klaus."
The Master-at-Arms spoke to Damon and Alaric, and the three men and Elena turned to them. "Was that the way of it?"
Elena was pleading to them with her eyes not to say what really happened.
"Uh-huh. That was pretty much it," Alaric said. Damon nodded in agreement before glancing at Elena for a moment.
"Well! The boys are heroes then. Good for you sons, well done!" He turned to Klaus. "So it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?"
Damon and Ric were uncuffed and Alaric moved to grab Damon's jacket and shoes, handing them to his boss. "Your father would kill me if he knew what just happened. He might employ mercenaries to capture me and watch as they slowly execute me." Damon rolled his eyes.
"Now you're just being over dramatic, Ric. You're a hero. Celebrate." Alaric muttered some very profane words in German, cursing Damon to the day he dies.
Klaus rubbed Elena's arms. "Let's get you inside. You're freezing, Elena. I don't know what you were thinking," he said, taking her away without a second thought for the two men.
Gracie spoke to him in a hush voice, "Ah...perhaps a little something for them?" nodding towards the two men.
"Oh, right. Mr. Smith," he said to Elijah, "A twenty each should do it."
Elena looked appalled and jerked away. "So that's the going rate to save the woman you love?"
"Elena is displeased. Hmmm…. what to do?" Klaus turned to size up Alaric and Damon gruff and unkempt appearances. They were steerage ruffian, he thought condescendingly, unwashed and ill mannered. They'd never do with our kind. "I know," Klaus said, looking between Alaric and Damon, "Perhaps you both could join us for dinner tomorrow, to regale our group with your heroic tale?"
Damon looked straight at Elena. "I'll go." Alaric was looking at his boss. He gave a nod.
"Where he goes, I go," adding under his breath, "Not like I have much other choice."
"Good, it's all settled then." He turned to go, drawing Elena next to him under a protective arm that Elena seemed to carry like a cross on her shoulders. He leaned over to Gracie as they walked by. "Well, this should be amusing."
"You'll want to tie those," Elijah said to Damon, "It's interesting that the young lady slipped so suddenly and yet you still had time to take off your jacket and shoes. Mmm?" While Elijah regarded Damon with a stoic expression and cold eyes, the younger man gave him a smirk.
"My jacket and shoes were off before she came out there. I had taken them off earlier."
"And on such a cold night too, especially for an Italian." Damon snorted.
"I've been to Petrozavodsk in winter in less clothing than this. I can handle the cold just fine," the Count said with a smirk, turning and walking away, leaving Elijah stunned and taken completely off guard.
Elena undressed for bed, sighing as she saw yet another pearl on the dresser. She would have to have someone clean that up in the morning… that and the glass. Looking in the vanity mirror, she saw Klaus standing in her doorway. His eyes were soft looking at her and for the first time since they had gotten engaged, his voice was unexpectedly tender when he spoke. "I know you've been melancholy lately, and I won't pretend that I know why." He pulled a large, black velvet case from behind his back and handed it to her and she took it numbly, wonder what he could possibly be up to now. "I intended to save this until our engagement gala next week, but I thought that maybe tonight, that perhaps you need a reminder of my feelings for you."
For the first time in a long time, she wondered if she had severely misjudged the man before her. She thought all he was cold and cunning and manipulative, but the man standing here seeming to love her. When she opened the box, she nearly dropped it. Inside, a necklace with a blood red diamond, nearly black from being so dark, shimmered in the dim lights.
"My God… Klaus. Is this-"
"A diamond? Yes, it is. Fifty-seven carats, to be exact." He took the necklace from her and placed it gently around her neck. He turned her back to the mirror, standing behind her. "Tsar Constantine ll of Bulgaria found this diamond in Tărnovo. They call it the Heart of Blood."
"Klaus," she breathed, "it's… it's overwhelming." He gazed at the image in the mirror, the two of them in an almost intimate position.
"It's for royalty, and we are royalty." His fingers danced to her throat following the necklace down to the stone itself. He never remembered her being so beautiful as she did right then. She seemed so out of reach, so untouchable, he almost wonder if she was meant to be his. Elena saw his weakness, seeing the pure emotion on his face.
"There's nothing I couldn't give you. There's nothing I'd deny you, if you would not deny me. Open your heart to me, Elena," he seemed to be begging her almost for a moment before the façade went back up, and Elena wondered if she had imagined the whole thing. Gingerly reaching up to touch the stone, she realized, though it was red like the warm, life-giving blood in her veins, it was cold… and it did not represent her heart, but rather Klaus'… a frozen, icy heart.
Hi my lovely readers and review! Thank you so much for reading this story. Your comments have all made me smile! :D Sorry I didn't get to post sooner. Life is catching up to me! I feel like I'm running in circles. (AHHHH!~ screams in frustration.~)
Important notice: On this day in history, seventy years ago, Pearl Harbor was attacked and America entered World War II. So yes, today is a heavy, heavy day- appropriate, I think, for this heavy, heavy chapter.
P.S. I'm trying for 10 reviews on this story after this chapter. My friend doesn't believe I can do it. I told her that this is the chapter where Damon and Elena finally meet so she's waiting to try to prove me wrong. Please don't let her prove me wrong!
P.P.S. Also, I added a poll to my page. Be sure to vote. Your votes will determine which story gets updated first.