Hello, guys. Thank you for the follows, I really appreciate it. Here's chapter three as promised. Hope you like it.

WARNING: Mention of self harm.

Alaric groaned when he had to use his set of keys to let himself inside the house. It meant that Elena wasn't home, but still, he hoped. "Elena?" He called coming into the hall.

He ran upstairs to her bedroom and saw her bag wasn't there. The pajamas she had worn the previous night lay across the unmade bed. Downstairs, the kitchen was empty and cold. Panic hit him so hard his palms were sweaty and he couldn't think straight. He couldn't believe that he had reacted the way he had.

Elena had looked so vulnerable when she had exposed her scars to him. She had seemed so uncertain, as if she was spreading her wings for the first time, preparing to fly in unexplored skies and he had shot her down.

He grabbed the land line and punched in the sheriff's number. It was too early to report Elena missing but he had to at least try. Perhaps Caroline Forbes might shed some light on Elena's whereabouts. She was her friend, wasn't she? But it was of no use.

After half an hour, he replaced the receiver, exasperated. He had called every single person who he thought might have the slightest clue about where Elena could be. No one had seen her. He dialed her number. Nothing. It had been switched off, lost, stolen or dropped. He texted her but there was no response.

His mobile rang. He flipped it open and held it to his ear desperately, impatient to even check the name on the screen. "Elena?"

"It's me," said Damon.

"Where the hell is she?"

"I don't know."

"Oh Damon, she's gone. I screwed up."

"Come on, Ric, don't be silly. I'm at the Grill now. I'll ask around."

"I have a horrible feeling about this." What if she was suicidal? Alaric's racing qualms seemed to be leading him to a very dark place.

"We'll find her," Damon paused. "Although I have no idea who I'm looking for."

Alaric cursed, realization dawning on him. Damon had no idea what she looked like, but what was he supposed to do? Send him a picture from their trip to Disneyland? He doubted Elena had even visited Disneyland. He would take her there when he got her back, he silently vowed to himself. "I'll be there."

"Never you mind," Damon said simply. "I'll use my spidey sense."

Damon propped himself on a bar stool as he casually scanned the dance floor for drunk sixteen year olds. Unfortunately for him, some stupid kid was throwing a birthday party and the grill was packed with trifling, light headed high schoolers. The constant babble was not his scene and the songs were too kitschy for his taste. Taylor Swift. Really?

"Can I get you something?" The waitress looked at Damon and gave him a flirtatious smile. Given any other circumstance, Damon would've reciprocated but he was too distracted. She looked like she was Elena's age.

"Not particularly, sweetheart. I'm looking for someone you might know. An Elena Gilbert?"

"Oh," The waitress sounded disappointed. "I saw her head to the restrooms."

Damon started shoving through the charged crowd to reach the ladies' room only to be stuck among a crabby lot of possibly PMSing teenagers. "Who locked the friggin door?" "It's been for a while." "Throwing up in 3..2" "I'm calling security!"

Oh Ric, the things I do for you, Damon thought sardonically and flicked one of the girls' bobby pin as she whined, "Thank you, coming through." He snapped the pin and wrenched it in, slightly twisting it until the lock clicked.

When Damon finally managed to open the door, he didn't have to be clairvoyant to be certain that the brunette smooching and canoodling with the tatted up loser was Elena. She was perched upon the counter, her long legs dangling, her hands gripping the edge and her back pressed against the rusty mirror as the guy cupped her face and kissed her sloppily.

She was in her camisole and jeans while the guy stood shirtless, every square inch of his skin covered in ink. They both had their eyes closed and were too lost in each other to realize that they had company.

Damon knew it was rude to look but he couldn't help but notice a few things. The sight was very telling. While the girl's beautiful face was markedly passionate and confident, the fact that she was holding on to the counter and not the man in front of her, betrayed her lingering hesitation and distance.

When the guy reached for the hem of her camisole, she pulled away, "No," her voice was too feeble.

"C'mon, baby," the guy continued to trail kisses down her neck, his fingers fighting hers off of the lacy fabric that was clinging on to her body dearly.

"Stop, no," The girl pleaded, her tone a little too nervous and shaky.

"I think she said no." Damon's voice made the pair jump.

"Wh-" The guy stuttered.

"Little tip, the next time you decide to lock yourself up inside a public rest room, do so with someone who's not a second away from raping you." Damon picked up the crumpled t- shirt from the floor and handed it to the girl who was staring at him, perplexed.

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

"The guy spearheading the Elena Gilbert search party. Let's get going."

Elena shook her head. Unbelievable. Alaric had sent a search party after her? "I can take care of mysel-"

"Look, assuming you're a virgin, you really don't want to swipe your v- card in germ infested- potentially virus breeding- STD central, do you? And if I'm correct, you weren't too excited about tattoo guy over here either, no offence," Damon smirked at the guy who was now groping around blindly for his clothes, apparently embarrassed about being spotted in the ladies' room.

Elena snatched her top from him, unable to make a witty comeback due to the drunken haze she was in. She held it to her chest and walked past him. Damon caught up to her, not wanting to lose her again. When they reached the pavement, he draped his leather jacket over her shoulders. She muttered a thanks without as much as throwing him a second glance.

Throughout the car ride, Damon kept peering at her from the corner of his eye to find her fixating on the road. The girl's voluminous curls covered most of her face, but something about her seemed to drag his eyes her way ever so often. She gasped when his jacket vibrated.

He chuckled lightly, "That should be Ric."

Elena pulled out his phone and answered it.

"Did you find her?" Alaric sounded so anxious. The concern and worry in his voice sent a pang of guilt through Elena for pulling the disappearing act on him.

"I'm here."

"Oh, thank god!" Alaric sighed in relief. The moment she climbed out of Damon's car, Alaric came sprinting from the house, throwing his arms around her.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He asked when he noticed that she was in her camisole.

"Yes, I'm fine." Elena leaned into his warm embrace.

"I was so frantic!" He rubbed her back soothingly.

"Well, you didn't have to send a search party after me."

"You're welcome," Damon called out from inside the house.

Alaric finally let go of her. "What were you thinking? Were you going to run?"

"Not if I had known you had such hot friends," Elena elbowed him, playfully.

Alaric rolled his eyes. "Don't ever put me through that again."

Alaric put down a bowl on the table and pushed Elena's legs out of the way to sit down, "Hey, you. Soup."

Elena emerged from the cushions, exhausted. She took a spoonful of the soup and nearly moaned. "This is absolutely delicious."

"Damon made it," Alaric smiled.

Elena could see that he obviously adored him. She took another mouthful.

"Are the scars the reason?"

Elena spluttered into her soup. "What?"

"Why you won't attend P.E." Alaric patted her back gently.

Elena nodded sheepishly. "I'll have to change in front of everyone and," she trailed off.

"You shouldn't have to be ashamed of your scars, Elena. If anything, they define you."

Elena kept her eyes on her soup. She had never discussed her issues with anyone. For the most part, she had never felt the urge to speak to someone nor had she trusted someone enough to have a cathartic, honest- to- god conversation with them and she did not want to have one now with Alaric.

"I don't know what you've been through to reach this point and if you don't want me to know, I'm fine with that. All I'm asking for is that you try to move forward from this day on. No looking back. Only ahead."

"I wish." Elena truly did, but as he had said, her scars defined her. Even if she willing to let go of her past, she knew that her past would catch up to her.

"You can, Elena. I'll help you if you let me. I want to." Alaric's eyes softened.

"Why?" She asked the question that was nagging at her since the day he had taken her in. Why? What did he get out of it? "Why do you even care?"

"Becuase," Alaric faltered. "I was you once."

Elena cocked her head. I was you once? What did that mean?

He heaved out a sigh. "I was an orphan."

Elena gasped and stared at him open- mouthed. Oh, now it all made sense.

Alaric carefully studied her face. Would she think that he was looking after her for selfish reasons? He wondered if she'd take it the right way and accept that if he had been able to turn his life over, so could she or if she'd take his loneliness and alcoholism for irredeemable weaknesses.

"Was?" Elena finally recovered from the bombshell.

"Adopted. They live in Atlanta."

"Do you still keep in touch with them?"

"Yea, I'd like you to meet them. They'll love you."

"Wow. There's way too much drama in this room," Damon appeared from the kitchen and lounged on the couch lazily. "What are we watching?"

Elena narrowed her eyes at Alaric to which he just shrugged, "Aren't the Yankees playing today?"

"Pass the remote, will you?" Damon winked at Elena. "And do feel free to fill Ric in on your extra curricular activities."

"Shut up."

"What's the name of the guy you locked yourself up in the stalls with? Was it the Dinosaur from Toy Story on his right bu-"

"Shut up!" Elena threw a cushion at him, but he neatly dodged it. Alaric gave her a do- I- even- want- to- know look.

"I'm going to bed," Elena breathed, standing up. Long didn't begin to describe the day she'd had and she was desperate for sleep.

Alaric looked at her apprehensively as she made it up the stairs. The way they'd left their conversation, he had no idea what terms they were in. Images of the fresh scars across her torso kept popping up in his mind. Would she cut? The thought was more painful than he liked to admit. How would he manage to make her stop?

"Good night, Ric," Elena called from the stairs.

Alaric had to smile. "Night, Elena."

"Thank you for the soup."

"You could thank me by flashing your tattoo," Damon smirked. It was Alaric's turn to toss a cushion at him.

What do guys think? Did you like it? Let me know :)