A/N: All my devoted love to my fabulous beta, Trogdor19, who I miss so incredibly much. Please hurry back, girl. I need you more than you know.

Chapter 21: Batter Down

"Hey, Mom," I say as I walk into the back of the bakery, finding her covered in flour and busily whisking batter.

I decided to do a drive by on my way home from Ric's, curious as to whether a certain Prius would be in the parking lot, but there wasn't one. I cursed and pulled in and parked, and if Elena shows up for her "standing Sunday date" with my mom then I can duck out the back door, but I'm thinking her appearance is probably as likely as me suddenly shrinking three feet.

"Hey, baby," my mom smiles at me, setting down the bowl to stretch up and wrap her arms around my neck, squeezing me tightly. She pulls back and tries to brush the flour off the front of my shirt that smudged off from her apron, but her hands only make it worse.

"Mom, stop," I whine. "It's fine."

"What's a handsome man like you doing here? You want me to make you some sweet potato pie? Ooh! You want a cherry? Sarah got the best cherries from the farmer's market…"

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh," she says and deflates, and I roll my eyes.

I don't know why she always acts like it hurts her feelings when I say that. You'd think she'd be happy that I don't purely see her as a vending machine.

"You need some help?" I ask, and her face lights up in a way that makes me wonder if this was a bad idea.

Can't fucking win with these women.

"I'd love some," she says and goes to grab a spare apron while I wash my hands. "Is Elena with you?" she asks cheerfully when she comes back, peering around the corner to look into the dining area, and I feel my face tighten.

"Actually, I kinda need to talk to you about that."

"Really?" she says, disappointed, and I wince.

"Yeah…what are you making?" I ask and peer into her bowl, which for now is nothing more than a bland mixture of eggs and sugar, possibly vanilla, but my brow furrows at the mixing cups that are set aside. Those slivers of green have no business being mingled with the chocolate chips she also has out.

"Whole wheat zucchini muffins with chocolate chips," she tells me, and I shudder.

"I still don't know who in their right mind eats vegetables in their muffins," I mutter, and my mom lightly nudges me with her elbow.

"I don't see how you can judge people about veggies when you love fruit pies," she says and passes me the bowl so I can take over.

"That's different. Did you already add the-"

"Yep."

"Okay," I nod and grab the wheat flour.

I measure and mix in the two cups that I need, then glance at her and smile, because next to me she's getting started on raspberry cheesecake muffins that I love and she hardly ever makes. Probably because once they're gone I always drive her nuts by bugging her incessantly to make more, which she refuses to do purely out of spite since I never listen to her warnings not to finish a dozen in a day.

What? They're fucking amazing.

"Soda," I say and she hands me the orange box, and after I'm done she takes it back and spoons out what she needs while my mouth gapes. "You put baking soda in those?" I ask, shocked, and she winks and holds her finger up to her lips like she's shushing me.

I chuckle and roll my eyes.

"Baking Powder," she tells me and I reach up and grab the white can off the shelf, measuring out what I need into my mixing bowl before I pass it to her. "That's so rude," she scolds with a laugh.

"Where are my manners?" I drawl sarcastically, then flick a little bit of flour at her.

"Damon!"

"Mom," I mock, then go back to mixing the stuff that will never come anywhere near my digestive system.

And I'm just pouring in the grated zucchini when my mom says quietly, "So, are you going to tell me what happened, or am I not allowed to ask?"

"It just didn't work out."

"Seemed like it was working fine when you two were at the house…"

"Yeah, well, things change," I tell her and dump in the chocolate chips. I sneak a peek at my mom while I'm folding them in, and she's got an eyebrow arched disapprovingly. I scoff and shake my head. "You know, this wasn't my fault, or my decision, and I'm getting really tired of everyone assuming I'm the bad guy here," I say more harshly than she deserves, and her eyes widen as she crosses her arms.

"And when did I say it was your fault? Because I don't recall those words coming out of my mouth."

"I know what you're thinking," I mumble, starting to spoon out the dough into the oversized muffin pan.

"Is that right?"

"Yeah," I tell her.

And I'm just finishing filling the last cup when she suddenly asks, "Did you add the cinnamon?"

I curse, shoving the pan away and a little bit of dough sloshing over the side, because no, I didn't add the cinnamon because I fucking forgot.

"Hey," she sooths, and I lean forward with my elbows on the counter, my head in my hands. I hear her open the oven and set the timer, and I shake my head.

"Don't bake those, I fucked them up…"

"It's fine, baby," she says far too patiently for me being such an asshole to her, her nails starting to run comfortingly through my hair. "No one will notice and it's good to change a few things now and then."

I scoff, and I hear her sigh.

"What happened with you and Elena?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I mutter.

"You're obviously upset…"

"So what?" I say and she pulls on my arm, making me stand up before she pinches my sleeve and starts leading me towards the back office. "Mom, I really don't-"

"Hush up." She knocks once on the closed door before she opens it. "Jerry, I need the office," she tells my uncle who is sitting at his desk, hunched over a stack of paperwork.

He's been married to my aunt Sarah for over thirty years now, and that has apparently trained him into the response of instantly hopping up from his seat while wearing an expression like he's afraid to do anything else.

"No problem," he tells her, shooting me a look of sympathy before he passes by us. Mom wastes no time nudging me inside the office and closing the door, and I plop down into the extra chair.

"What are you gonna do, ground me?" I smirk sarcastically at her when she takes the opposite seat, glaring at me from behind the desk.

"Do you need to be grounded?" she asks and I roll my eyes. She blows out a breath and I lean back, propping my elbow on the armrest so I can rest my head against my fist. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"You don't have anything to say?" she says, frustrated, and I shift in my seat. "We will sit here all day, Damon…"

"Fine," I grit out. "I screwed up. You happy now?"

"No," she gripes at me. "And how did you screw up?"

"Because, I know you're friends with her and she's probably not going to ever show her face around here again, and that's because of me." I swallow and look down at the buckle on my boot, my voice barely loud enough to reach her when I mumble, "Like I haven't ruined your life enough."

Her hand slaps down on the desk like a crack of thunder and my head whips up. "You listen to me," she snaps, using the voice that somehow makes me feel like she's bigger than I am, although I've been taller than her since I was eleven. "Getting pregnant, at first, was the worst thing that ever happened to me."

"Thanks for proving my point."

"But from that, Damon, I got you and your brother and I wouldn't change a single thing that led to that. And just because I never married doesn't mean that I didn't get the love of my life. Because that title goes to you."

I glance down again, my chest thick and throat strangled.

"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me," she says strongly, her voice breaking. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes," I say quietly.

"Good. Then I don't want to hear you ever say that again."

"Okay," I murmur, and her chair creaks when she leans back in it.

She stays quiet for a minute, and I can see from my peripheral vision as she rests her elbow against the armrest, mirroring my posture. "Baby, what happened?" she asks gently, and I shrug.

"I wasn't good enough."

I don't know if there is anything more humiliating than admitting that. But at the same time, it's not like there's anyone else who I can talk to about how I feel right now. And maybe a selfish, egotistical part of me wants to tell my mom all this depressing, self-deprecating crap because I know she's going to make me feel better, and right now, I'm in vital need of it.

"Did she say that?"

"Didn't have to."

"Well," my mom says, exasperated. Yeah, welcome to my world. "What is it that she wants?"

I sigh and shake my head. "It's complicated."

My eyes dart to my mom and she makes a face that is a silent reiteration of her threat to not let me out of here until I come clean, and I shift in my seat again.

Fuck it.

"She," I start and clear my throat. "She wants someone else. And even though he's gone, and he's not coming back, I'll never measure up."

"Damon…"

"It's the truth," I tell her baldly. "And it's not her fault, so if you do see her, don't be mad at her. She's had it hard enough as it is and she doesn't need you coming down on her."

My mom tilts her head at me, and I flare my eyes in a warning.

"Okay," she agrees softly, and I tap my thumb distractedly against the armrest. "I just don't understand," she says confused.

I scoff. "Really? You're always nagging on me about shit I need to change and do better, and you don't see how this could happen? Makes perfect sense to me," I drawl.

"No, it's not that…"

"Thanks a lot," I tell her and she rolls her eyes.

"Are you perfect? No," she says with a hint of sarcasm. "Some days you get close, but then you open that filthy mouth of yours and whoop! Out the window," she teases and I feel the corner of my lips turn up. "What I don't understand," she says sincerely, "is exactly what she's telling herself and how she convinced you of it too, because what I saw was a woman that was undoubtedly in love with you."

"And you don't think your opinion on that is a little warped?"

"No," she tells me, offended, and I snort.

"Well, maybe what you saw was her being in love with her husband, and it getting accidentally transposed onto me."

"Her what?"

"She's widowed," I tell my mom and her face falls, mouth gaping. "And can I just add, this is the most awkward conversation you and I have ever had and the sooner it's over, the better."

"We've had worse, so don't even go there. Besides, tell me how you reacted to hearing that Elena was married before."

I bite the inside of my lip and my mom arches a smug eyebrow at me.

"Mm-hmm."

"She lied to me!"

"Did she now? So I suppose you asked if she had ever been married?"

"This is bullshit," I mutter. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to take sides." She smiles at me and I roll my eyes.

"You can do whatever you want. Just leave me out of your friendship with her, and can I please go home now?"

"Yes, Damon, you're excused," she says like she's indulging me, and I get up and open the door to the office.

I stop in the kitchen to hang up my apron, and when I turn around my mom is standing in front of me and she damn near gave me a heart attack.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," I admonish and try to catch my breath, and she shoves a box of the zucchini and chocolate chip muffins at me. Sarah or Jerry must have pulled them out while we were in the office. "Mom, no offense, but I'm not going to eat those."

"They're not for you," she says. "They're for Elena, these are her favorite. You can give them to her at work tomorrow."

I feel my weight sag. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I love you," she smiles and stretches up to kiss my cheek, then rocks back down. "Now go home, you're a mess and you're going to offend all my customers."

I crack half a smile, then lean down and hug her tightly, letting my head rest on her shoulder for just a minute. "Thanks, Mom," I mumble.

"You'll be okay," she whispers and I nod, my throat clamped closed.

I want to believe her, I really do.

My strides are long and confident as I head down the aisle of desks. The box of muffins in my hand.

I jerk my chin at Ric as I get closer and he flips me off with half a grin. He's still a little ticked that I tripped him into proposing to Jenna, but we called it square since he didn't tell me about Elena's marriage, and there's no lasting damage done. At least nothing that a bottle of whiskey couldn't fix.

My target is staring at her computer screen, but ten bucks says she's scanning emails she's already read in order to act like I don't exist. Nice try, Elena.

I stop right next to her and rap my knuckles on her desk, and she jumps and looks up at me. Pain and warmth surge through my pounding heart when I see her eyes: nervous and borderline hopeful, but that can't be right.

"Let's go," I tell her and nod my head towards the end of the aisle, and her eyes widen. I don't wait for her to respond, and I ignore the look of shock coming from Ric as I head towards one of the empty conference rooms.

I don't have time to pussyfoot around. I've got six minutes to get this done.

I push open the conference room door and hold it open, and Elena walks inside without a word. And I held my breath as she passed in front of me, but even so I'm drowning in vanilla and blackberries and I want to soak in it. I want to run.

I step inside and shut the door, and she faces me hesitantly.

She's beautiful, like always, but she looks kinda terrible. Her clothes are perfect: pinstripe pants that she suddenly seems to own a dozen pairs of because the pencil skirts have mysteriously disappeared, a standard silk blouse and gem colored cardigan, but there are dark circles under her eyes. Seems like I'm not the only one having trouble sleeping. She's also got her hair pulled back into a ponytail, which looks nice, but she always wears her hair down to work.

She swallows and glances down at her feet, and the fluorescent light above us flickers off the teardrop opal earrings she's wearing and my knees nearly buckle.

She was wearing those that night…

"I'll make this quick," I say bluntly and she lifts her chin a little. "These are from her," I tell Elena and set the box down on the conference table beside us. I take a business card that I snagged from the bakery out of my pocket and turn it over, writing down my mom's home phone and cell number on the back. "She wants you to call her."

"Does she know?" Elena asks quietly, and I peek at her, then nod my head.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't have a choice. I went to see her Sunday at the bakery and she asked where you were."

Elena sucks in a breath and I straighten, putting the pen back in my pocket and leaving the business card on top of the box of muffins.

"She's not mad at anyone, and I'm sure she just wants to tell you that herself. But here's the deal," I say plainly, and Elena hugs her arms around herself. "If you don't want to talk to her or be friends with her anymore, then okay. We both understand that it's awkward. But you need to tell her that and not just disappear." Elena bites her lip and nods, and I clear my throat. "She doesn't deserve to pay for my screw ups."

"Damon," Elena sighs at me, her voice cracking. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yeah," I scoff. "Well, the contents of that box say otherwise."

Her brow furrows, and when she peeks into the box, she gasps. "Are these the zucchini with chocolate chips?" she whispers without looking at me, and I cross my arms.

"Leave it to you to like the healthiest shit on the menu." Her head turns towards me, her eyes glistening, and I wince. "I wasn't trying to insult you…"

"You didn't insult me," says quietly, a tear rolling down her cheek, and I shift my weight.

"Please don't cry," I plead quietly, looking away. "This is hard enough and I can't..."

"I'm sorry," she says and sniffles, wiping at her eyes.

"You don't have to apologize," I fumble. "I just-"

"You made these, didn't you?"

My eyes lock on hers, and she tilts her head at me.

I open my mouth to say something, but I don't have anything to offer her that's going to make this any better. I can't bring her husband back for her, I can't erase the pain that's painted on her skin in the form of a dying raven, and I can't put myself back together again without her.

"We have a meeting," I tell her and open the door, striding down the hallway to my desk.

"Everything alright?" Ric asks and I nod, logging into my phone and setting the code for being in training. "Any idea what this meeting is about? We're scheduled for it all day…"

I don't respond, just dropping my car keys and cell phone in my drawer as Elena comes back down the aisle, setting the box of muffins on her desk and sitting in her chair with her back to me. I glance at Ric and a grin is pulling at the corner of his mouth because he obviously noticed the exchange, and I shake my head so he doesn't get the wrong idea that anything has been resolved.

His face falls, and I shrug.

"We ready to go?" I ask them and Ric stands up, Elena delicately clearing her throat and throwing away a napkin that I'm guessing she was using to wipe at her eyes. Great. It's so fucking fantastic that I made her cry first thing on a Monday morning. What a swell guy I am.

I stand and she does the same, and silently, we all walk with the rest of the people from our row and another team from two aisles over, moseying down to one of the largest training rooms in the far end of the building. Everyone else is laughing and joking, trading stories from the weekend and congratulating each other on getting a day off the phones. It makes me feel like the grim reaper.

And I need to snap out of this shit. I need to perk the fuck up and smile and laugh before my attitude becomes an issue.

I sit next to Ric at one of the round tables in the training room, Elena taking the seat on his other side and I don't know why she just did that. She's friends with other people on our team, she could've sat with them. But no. Now I get to sit here and watch out of my peripheral vision as she shoots me questioning looks. Awesome.

I clear my throat and shift in my seat, and Ric glances at me. I cock an eyebrow at him and he rolls his eyes, then yawns, and while his mouth is gaping wide open I grab his pen from the table and poke it in his mouth.

He chokes and sputters and I burst out laughing, not even dodging away from his fully justified kick to my leg under the table.

"Dick," he hisses and I chuckle, not paying any attention whatsoever to the smile lighting up Elena's face.

I ignore it adamantly for the next five minutes as everyone else comes in the room, sitting in their seats.

"Good morning," Jeremy says from the front of the room to call us to attention, and the chatter settles down. "So, as you may have noticed since you're all here and not on the floor taking calls," he says and winks, "we have you guys booked into a training session today. Now, this should take us until about eight o'clock this evening, and possibly a little bit of time tomorrow morning, depending on how smoothly it goes."

I bite my cheeks to contain my snort, but Ric lets his live out in the open.

"So," Jeremy continues, "during our last round of employee surveys, we heard a lot from y'all in Claims Reporting about what you need so you're able to help our customers to the best of your ability." He pauses and leans back against the desk in the front of the room, and it's all for dramatic effect. "And one of those things was empowering you with the ability to arrange for a rental car for our customers during the first notice of loss."

The room erupts in cheers, and I chuckle. It really has been something that we've been begging for the power to do for many years. That way the customers will hopefully bitch less since they're getting what they want, and that'll make our professional lives slightly more tolerable. It's just taken a long time for the company to fine tune the process through the legal department because of state regulations and the fact that we're not licensed adjusters, but it looks like persistence and loud, whiny nagging found a way.

"That's right, guys," Jeremy tells them proudly. "You asked for it, and we're going to deliver. Now, this is going to be a little complicated, although we're confident that you guys are going to master this. And it's going to entail a lot of delving into the world of policy contracts and determining coverage as well as an introduction to the software system you'll be using to actually arrange the rental through our affiliates…"

A grumble swells through the room because yeah, that's the fine print. A ninth software system which translates to more passwords and more glitches.

"But all in good time. First," Jeremy grins and I swallow, "instead of having to listen to my lovely voice drone on and on and on for the rest of the day," he says and everyone laughs, "I'm going to turn you over to one of your own, and he is going to be leading y'all through the training."

Ric glances at me, and because I didn't tell him shit, I arch an eyebrow at him.

"Damon?" Jeremy says like an invitation and I stand, pushing in my chair before I take my first steps towards the front of the room.

I catch the sound of Ric chuckling under his breath and Elena sucking in hers, and my pulse is a little quicker than I'd like. But then again I've got at least forty pairs of eyes all following me, and I can't get out of my head the way Elena's eyes were glistening when she realized I baked those damn muffins for her. And that's the last thing I need to be thinking about when I'm staring down ten hours of being in front of a room full of my peers and boss and ex-girlfriend, teaching them a whole bunch of complicated shit that took me six hours to figure out last Wednesday when Jeremy trained me one-on-one.

The whispered word from his cubicle Tuesday morning was that one of our trainers is going to resign in a couple of months because she's moving out of state, and Jeremy and his manager are willing to overlook the fact that I don't have a degree because of my tenure with the company. They are also generously letting this serve as part of my interview process. So while learning this stuff is a big deal for everyone else, if I pull this off, it's going to save my life as I know it.

Because if I can somehow manage to answer any questions Elena throws at me about determining coverage eligibility for arranging a rental car, while ignoring the knowledge that she's got a clear plug in her tongue and that she looks like a goddess during sunset, then voila! No more Auto In button for me and I'll be permanently working a lot farther than four feet away from her. I'll be spending my days in a room like this one, teaching freshly-hired groups of people how to take claims and after six weeks, they'll hit the floor and I'll get a new class. Not to mention this is gonna be one hefty bump for my pay grade.

I reach the front of the room and Jeremy clasps my hand with a grin, then claps me on the shoulder with his other before going to sit in the back where he'll be monitoring me for the duration. Along with his boss and yeah, it looks like there's also the supervisor from the other team and another that I know I've seen around, but I can't remember her name.

Yeah, no pressure.

I lean casually back against the desk in the front of the room and do a quick sweep over everyone, making sure I've got all eyes on me, and I can't quite figure out Elena's expression. Maybe because she's flipping through emotions at Mach 3 and I'm seeing glimpse of nerves and surprise and embarrassment and guilt and I think I saw pride, but I doubt it.

"Good morning," I drawl with a wide smile and hear forty-plus voices return the same, one distinguishing itself from the rest, but probably only to me. "I need everyone to stand up, please."

They all kind of glance at each other and then do as I ask, watching me curiously.

Once everyone is standing I push off from the desk I'm leaning against. "Raise your right hands," I say seriously and they mimic me as I hold up my own like I'm about to swear an oath. "Now, make a fist…" I tell them and a few people laugh, Ric rolling his eyes and I can tell that Elena is smiling at me warmly, but I'm not looking at her.

Okay, that's a lie.

I wrench my focus to another person in the room, and my grin widens. "Now, repeat after me: hallelujah!" I exclaim dramatically and fist pump, and after they all laugh, they eventually do as I embarrassingly requested.

Not that any of them realize that we're cheering about two separate things.

"Alright, you guys can sit down," I chuckle and walk around the desk to the massive white board, picking up a marker. "For any of you that somehow do not have the pleasure of knowing my name, I am Damon Salvatore," I say and write it on the board. "But," I drawl and turn back around, "feel free to call me Your Grace, Your Highness, O Fearless Leader or whatever else may tickle your fancy over the next ten hours. Just don't call me Precious," I say and visibly shiver, "or baby, because my mom may cut you. She's got dibs."

I smirk as everyone snickers and chuckles, and when I can't stop myself from checking, I find Elena beaming: her chin propped in her hand and all of her attention pointed directly at me.

I almost wink at her, but then I remember, and I don't.

I turn back to the board and start writing out a whole bunch of brainless, technical shit, and yeah, this is gonna be a long goddamn day.

A/N: See you guys next chapter. Stay safe and be kind to one another.

-Goldnox