Can we be mushy for a second? I seriously can't believe the reviews and messages and love you all send me and this story. Seriously. Amazing. You make me want to write - thank you. I also think you will enjoy this chapter. If, of course, you like Molly and Delena.

NASCAR info for you - race cars are equipped with cooling systems that help keep the drivers sort of comfortable - it gets very hot in those cockpits - and many have some form of hydration system that supplies the driver with water throughout the race as races are long and physically grueling.

Having said all that, another thank you for all of your support - love to all of you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries.

Something was wrong.

He didn't know what, but he didn't have time to worry about it. There were less than 10 laps left under the lights at Bristol, and Matt Donovan was in the lead. He was in the No. 2 spot, determined to not let Matt win. It was like Texas, dueling hard for the win. Except this time, the crowd knew there was animosity between Damon and Matt. They knew how badly one didn't want the other to win. They were on their feet, cheering them on, sure they were about to witness an exciting finish.

His vision was blurry. His head was pounding. He felt faint, weak. He was aware of chatter in his ear, of Ric and Mason calling to him, asking him to reply, but he didn't register what they were saying. They were nothing more than white noise, his brain able to hear the sound of their voices, but not able to comprehend what they were saying.

"Damon?" Mason demanded. "Damon? Can you hear us?"

"Damon! Do you copy?" Ric followed. They both knew Damon liked to be left alone to drive when the stakes were high, but they hadn't received a response from him for the better part of a half hour, too long, by all accounts. They had no idea something might be wrong with him, believing it to be another issue with the radio.

The track blurred in and out of focus. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Damon knew it was dangerous to keep driving. He was putting himself, not to mention the rest of the cars on the track, at risk. But his focus was singular. He wanted to win. He wanted to be beat Matt.

It wasn't safe, but he squeezed his eyes shut for the briefest of moments, trying to bring the track back into focus. The blue blur in front of him was Matt. He kept his eyes on it, using it as a beacon. He just needed to get to it and then get past it. A distant voice told him there were three more laps.

Three more laps.

Three more laps and then he could rest.

Out of habit, he pushed the button on his steering wheel that should have pumped water into his mouth. It hadn't worked right the whole race, at first issuing mere drops of water and then nothing. Lap after grueling lap went by without so much as a drop of water from the hydration system. His mouth felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton.

And it was hot. It was so hot. His cooling system wasn't working either. He didn't know the temperature in his car, just that it was well into the triple digits. He saw a white flag indicating the last lap as he closed in on Matt's car.

It got dirty, the two cars bumping one another as they sprinted around the track, determined to be the first one across the finish line. They came out of the last turn, Damon's front end right at the back tire of Matt's. He crept up another few inches, sure he could pass him, even as the track swam in and out of focus before him.

Without warning, a bang echoed through his cockpit. He heard voices that sounded far away saying something about a blown tire as his car spun around. Blurs went past him, other cars, he thought. He didn't have it in him to fight the car, to drive it to safety. He did manage to press down on the brake, letting the car slide until it came to a stop. He let out a sigh, relieved that it was over, vaguely aware that he had lost the race. His senses were kicking in, however dimly, telling him he needed to move, do something. He tried to remember what that something was.

His window net. He needed to let the window net down to signal that he was okay.

He raised his hand, but it was unbelievably heavy. He wasn't even sure it was his hand. It was so blurry he couldn't be sure. Still, he made a swipe at the window net, missing by inches or a foot, he didn't know, his heavy hand falling to his side. He tried to lick his lips, but everything was dry. So very dry.

Suddenly, his car flooded with sunlight.

"Damon!"

He recognized that voice. It was Enzo. A fuzzy face appeared in his window, now free of its net.

"Damon, you okay?" Damon tried to raise his hand again, but couldn't. "Shit!" Enzo exclaimed, reaching into the car to undo Damon's harness. Damon didn't try to help. He couldn't. He was so hot. So thirsty. "Water!" Enzo was shouting. "Get me some water!"

Strong arms reached through the window and hooked around him, started dragging him up and out through the car window. More hands reached to help. Damon felt like a ragdoll.

"Can you stand?" Enzo asked. Damon's knees buckled in response. Enzo and someone – his gasman, maybe? – lowered him to the ground, propped him against the car, and got his helmet off. "Water! Now!" Enzo ordered again.

"Here!" came a voice that belonged to another crewmember. A bottle was at his lips, Enzo trying to pour the liquid into his mouth, spilling more than he was getting into Damon.

"Come on, Damon, drink," Enzo urged.

"Get an ambulance!" another voice was ordering. Mason. He sounded far away to Damon. "He's dehydrated! He needs the infield care center, now!" Someone said something about heatstroke. Damon wondered vaguely what place he finished.

"Damon!"

That voice.

"Damon!"

With effort, he lifted his head from where it was lulling against his car. She was blurry, but he would know her anywhere.

"'Lena," he managed.

"Is he okay?" she was asking.

"He's severely dehydrated," Enzo was saying.

"An ambulance is on the way," Mason's voice echoed.

"He needs water or Gatorade or something," a voice he thought belonged to a tire changer chimed in.

"Damon, here, drink this." Elena was at his side.

"'Lena," he croaked.

"I'm here," she confirmed, lifting a water bottle to his lips. "Drink this, Damon. Please." Even in his state of disillusion, he could hear the worry in her voice. He didn't want to worry her. He focused on the task at hand – drinking water, just like she wanted him to do. Unlike with Enzo, Elena didn't spill it. She was careful, giving him slow, measured sips. He thought, maybe, he was feeling marginally better. He lips were at least damp again.

"'Lena," he said again. He didn't know what he wanted to say to her, just that he needed to know she was there.

"I'm here," she said again. "We need more water," she said to someone else. "Where's the ambulance?"

"It's coming," someone answered. "I can see it on the other side of the track."

"Here," came still another voice. "Give him this. Gatorade." Someone was on his other side now. "Drink this, Damon. Come on. Slow and steady." Stefan, Damon thought dimly. That voice belonged to Stefan. He accepted the liquid being offered to him from another direction. It was sweet but salty. Not water. "What the hell happened?" Stefan was asking. Damon let someone else answer.

"I don't know," Enzo said, his voice strained. "We didn't have radio contact with him for the last 40 or so laps."

"Did you not have radio contact?" Stefan asked as he focused on getting the Gatorade into Damon. "Or was he too dehydrated to answer?" No one said anything.

"He's burning up," Damon heard Elena say. "And he's not sweating. He needs to be cooled down." Gentle hands were on him, unzipping his fire suit and pulling it away from his shoulders. The late spring night air was a hot, humid, but compared to how it had felt in the cockpit of the car and in his fire suit, it felt like being plunged into an air conditioned room. He heard more voices and saw red lights. Things looked a little clearer, at least around the edges. "The ambulance is here," Elena was saying to him. He swallowed the liquid Stefan gave him. "They are going to take you to the infield care center."

"'Lena," he said roughly.

"I'm right here," Elena promised. She took his hand, stayed by his side as the EMTs swarmed around him, jostling Stefan aside.

"Water," Damon croaked.

"We're going to take care of you," a calm voice said. "Let's get him in the bus."

The last thing Damon remembered before blacking out was being lifted from the ground and being forced to let go of Elena's hand.

"How is he?" Elena asked no one in particular as she burst into the infield care center. "Where is he?"

"They are giving him fluids," Ginny answered. Elena spun around to see her perched on one of only a few plastic chairs in the small waiting area. "A nurse just came out and updated me a few minutes ago. He's coming around. They confirmed he was dehydrated and had a case of heatstroke." Elena sighed and took the seat next to her.

"Where are Stefan and Giuseppe?" she asked. "I thought they were coming?"

"Stefan just showed up and got Giuseppe," she answered. "You just missed them. Something or other about Damon's car that Stefan wanted to talk to him about. I didn't pay much attention, given that my son is once again under a doctor's care after a race. Is Molly with Caroline?" Elena nodded.

"She is," she confirmed. "She's upset. Samantha had brought her out to Martin's pit box to watch the end of the race. The blown tire didn't faze Molly, but she saw Damon on the ground with the medical workers all around him. I got her calmed down, but I don't think she will quite believe me that Damon is okay until she sees him. Caroline has her watching Cinderella right now." Ginny studied Elena. She looked worried, her face drawn.

"You got to Damon fast," she commented. "Enzo and Tyler had barely pulled him out of the car before you were at his side. I tried to get to him, but Giuseppe held me back. He wouldn't let me run across pit road, for one thing, but he said Damon needed space." Elena could hear the annoyance in her voice at being kept from her son.

"Damon came to a stop practically in front of his pit box," Elena said. "I was there, thinking up how to handle him if Matt won."

"Which he did," Ginny grumbled. "Damon will be thrilled about that."

"Where did Damon finish, anyway?" Elena asked. She had been so wrapped up in Damon's accident and then Molly that she had no idea how any of their drivers had finished, ignoring her post-race duties in favor of helping Damon and consoling her daughter. "He technically crossed the finish line, even if he was spinning out." Ginny smiled.

"Fifth," she said proudly. "Even with a blown tire and completely disillusioned, he finished fifth. Martin finished sixth and Eric, that child, he finished 26th." Elena smiled too.

"Damon, again, somehow managed to be the top finisher for Salvatore Racing," she said. "It may not be the finish he wanted, but it's still something to be proud of."

"Oh, he's going to be furious about it," Ginny mused. "He has always been a sore loser, but losing to Matt when he was so close to beating him? He will pout about it for the next few days."

"Maybe," Elena replied. She had a feeling Damon was going to be more focused on Talladega, now that it was less than two weeks away.

"Of course, we have Dover next weekend and then Talladega the weekend after that," Ginny said, thinking along the same lines. "I would be just fine if they took Talladega off the schedule." She had never been a fan of the restrictor plate tracks as they were known for their high speeds and spectacular crashes. Of course, both of her sons and her husband loved them.

"Damon will be fine," Elena assured Ginny. She wondered if she was assuring herself as much as she was Ginny. "I'm sure he's nervous about returning to Talladega, but he has always loved restrictor plate racing. He will be fine once he's in the car."

"Damon always has liked to drive fast and throw caution to the wind," Ginny agreed. She gave Elena a pointed look. "No matter what it cost him in the end." Elena pursed her lips, aware that Ginny was referring to how Damon left things four years ago. "You two spend a lot of time together," she ventured.

"He's Molly's father," Elena replied carefully. She didn't want to have this conversation right now, especially as she didn't know what, exactly, she and Damon were. They weren't together, but it felt like they were more than friends. "We have to spend time together." Her excuse sounded weak even to her own ears.

"Are you sure that's it?" Ginny prodded. Elena opened her mouth to reply, but a door opened and a nurse entered the room. Ginny abandoned their conversation, tapping Elena's knee with her hand. "That's Damon's nurse," she said.

"Mrs. Salvatore?" the nurse asked.

"How is my son?" Ginny asked in turn. "Can I see him?"

"He's doing much better," the nurse said kindly. "He's asking for an Elena?" The nurse glanced at Elena. "Would I be correct in assuming that's you?" Elena nodded.

"I'm Elena," she confirmed.

"He would like to see you," the nurse repeated. "You can follow me." Elena made to stand, but remembered Ginny.

"Ginny, if you want to go back, I'm sure…" Ginny silenced Elena with a kind smile and a wave of her hand.

"My dear," she said pointedly, "he's asking for you."

Elena nodded slowly as a cloud of butterflies started fluttering somewhere deep inside her. She followed the nurse through a set of double doors. The infield care center was small, just a few exam rooms, but it was staffed by three doctors and several nurses, ready to see anything from a fan's burned hand while grilling in the infield to a driver with major injuries from a crash. The nurse directed her towards a set of drawn curtains. Elena paused outside of them and took a deep breath before pulling them open.

"Hey," Damon said, giving her a tired smile from a hospital bed. He had been stripped of his fire suit, now only clad in the dirty t-shirt and gym shorts he had worn underneath it. He was covered in dirt and grime, a standard post race look. He had usually showered and changed into something clean and comfortable after a long race by now.

"You're looking better," Elena commented. She closed the curtain and perched on Damon's bed.

"Whatever is in this bag is a godsend," Damon said, indicating the IV bag of fluid being pumped into him via his left arm. "It would be nice if they would bring me a steak or something, though. I'm starving." Elena smiled.

"You really are feeling better," she said. "I'll see what I can do about getting you some food." Damon merely nodded.

"Where is Molly?" he asked. "She's not in the waiting room, is she?" Elena shook her head.

"She's with Caroline, watching Cinderella."

"Is she okay?" Damon pressed. "She was so upset when I crashed at Atlanta. I don't want her to worry."

"You spinning out didn't seem to bother her, but she did get a glimpse of you being treated in the infield by medics. I promised her you were okay and that she could see you later. I can call Caroline and get her to bring Molly over." Damon shook his head.

"I don't want her to see me here," he said. "It will just scare her. I'll go to her as soon as they release me. Which I think is going to be soon."

"You could stand a pit stop by way of a shower stall," Elena quipped, wrinkling her nose. Damon chuckled. "What happened out there, Damon?" she asked, growing seriously. "Why didn't you let someone know you were getting dehydrated?"

"Matt was winning," Damon replied stubbornly. "I didn't have time to worry about water and cooling systems. Son of a bitch won anyway."

"You still finished fifth," Elena supplied. "Even with a blown tire and crossing the finish line backwards."

"I should have won," Damon grumbled. "That son of a bitch got into my fender. I don't know if it was just racing or intentional, but that last bump from him is what shredded my tire."

"You will just have to beat him at Dover next week," Elena soothed.

"Son of a Bitch is in The Chase now," Damon pointed out, having decided calling Matt by a foul name was better than saying his real one. Elena shook her head almost fondly. She was very much reminded of the Damon she fell in love with in that moment, more worried about the outcome of the race than his current state of health, already focused on the next race, on winning.

"You can worry about that when The Chase starts," Elena told him before she turned serious again. "Damon, you have to take care of yourself. I know you want to win. I know you want to beat Matt. But, you have Molly to think about now. You got lucky this time, but you put yourself at risk, as well as everyone else on the track, by pushing yourself like that."

"I know," Damon admitted. "I'm too competitive for my own good."

"You always have been," Elena replied. Damon looked at her curiously.

"How did you get to me so fast?" he asked. The last couple of hours had come back to him as they pumped him full of fluid and brought his body temperature down. He remembered being pulled out of the car by Enzo and Tyler. He remembered Elena, holding a water bottle to his lips. He remembered Stefan doing the same with a bottle of Gatorade.

"You came to a stop almost right in front of your pit box," Elena explained. "I was watching the race from there. Enzo was shouting about water and I had some." In truth, she had been on pins and needles, fretting over the lack of radio contact with Damon. It wasn't uncommon for teams to have radio issues, even if it was incredibly inconvenient, but her gut had told her something was off. When Enzo and Tyler pulled him from the cockpit, all she had seen was a limp, lifeless body. She hadn't hesitated to run for him.

"You had to cross pit road," Damon said. "Elena, that was dangerous. The race was over. Cars were coming in…"

"I had to climb over the pit wall and a retaining wall too," Elena interrupted. "In heels."

"That was dangerous," Damon reprimanded again. "You can't do stuff like that, Elena." Elena raised an eyebrow.

"You're lecturing me on safety?" Elena asked. "Really?" Damon chuckled.

"Touche," he agreed. His hand crept forward and linked with hers. Neither of them realized what they were doing, the move so natural. "All the same, thank you for being there." Elena nodded. She glanced at their interlocked hands, vaguely thinking she should consider what it meant.

"You scared me," she admitted, raising her eyes to his. "I've gotten kind of used to you being around." Damon held her gaze.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised. Elena swallowed hard, understanding the true wait behind his words. She could only nod, not trusting herself to say more. Damon licked his lips, his eyes still on Elena's. He decided then to just go for it. If she rejected him, if he crossed a line, he would deal with it as it came. He started to lean forward as Elena shifted towards him ever so slightly, bolstering his confidence. The curtain opened, interrupting their moment.

"Mr. Salvatore," a doctor greeted. He noticed Elena. "I'm sorry, if I'm interrupting something." They both mumbled out a version of "no," even as they kept their hands linked. The doctor's smile told them he wasn't convinced. "I want to examine you one more time before we send you on your way." Damon nodded.

"Okay," he agreed. Elena knew that was her cue.

"I'll wait for you in the waiting room," she said. "Your mom is here too. Then, maybe we can go see Molly?" Damon nodded and squeezed her hand before letting it go.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he promised.

"This better be good," Giuseppe warned Stefan. "I haven't had an update on your brother and I don't like leaving your mother at the infield care center when she's upset."

"You will want to see this," Stefan promised. They entered the garage area at a brisk pace. Between the urgency in his voice and the pace he set, Giuseppe knew something was amiss. Stefan had gone with Damon's car once Damon was loaded into the ambulance and seemingly had something to show him. They rounded a corner and arrived in Damon's assigned garage stall. Enzo and Ric were both leaning against his damaged car. Giuseppe raised an eyebrow.

"Do I pay the two of you to stand around looking pretty?" he asked. Giuseppe was a fair man, a man his employees would do just about anything for. But, he notoriously didn't like idle hands, especially when there was so much work to do with loading up the cars and equipment now that the race was over. Ric and Enzo traded a nervous glance as they pushed off the car and stood up straighter, like soldiers being called to attention.

"They are doing what I asked them to do," Stefan spoke up. "I told them to keep an eye on Damon's car until I could get you. I didn't want to run the risk of someone touching it before I could get you in here." Giuseppe raised an eyebrow.

"What's going on, Stefan?" he demanded, tired of being kept in the dark.

Stefan jerked his head towards the car. "Come take a look at this," he directed. The garage was well lit, but he grabbed a nearby flashlight, turned it on, and shined the beam into the car. "Right here." He reached behind Damon's seat and moved a plastic container so Giuseppe could see it better. Giuseppe leaned in to get a better look.

"Is that a hole in the water tank?" he asked. Stefan nodded.

"A nearly perfect puncture wound," he confirmed. "Looks to be abut the size of a small Phillips screwdriver." Giuseppe pursed his lips.

"It could have happened over the course of the race, even at the end when Damon spun out," he said, playing devil's advocate. "It could have been damaged before the race even started." Stefan shook his head.

"It's too clean of a puncture," he argued.

"And I filled that tank up and attached it to the hydration system myself," Enzo supplied. "I would have noticed if it was leaking, especially with a hole that big. It would have left a small stream from the faucet to the car." Giuseppe didn't reply.

"Besides, that's not all," Stefan said. He moved the beam of light to another section of the car. "Take a look at those wires." The wires in question were in two halves, cut cleanly as though passed through by a knife blade or a pair of sharp scissors.

"Those go to the cooling system," Giuseppe said sharply. Stefan shut the flashlight off. They had seen all they needed to see.

"Someone tampered with Damon's car," Stefan stated. "I couldn't prove someone messed with the engine back at Martinsville. It was the one that ended up in Jeff's car, but it was initially marked for Damon's, remember? But this? This we can prove. Someone messed with Damon's car." Giuseppe turned his sharp eyes towards Ric and Enzo.

"Who had access to this car?" he demanded. "Who touched it?"

"Well, the crew," Ric offered. "No one else outside of NASCAR officials during inspection or Damon himself would have touched it. Well, at least not in theory. We don't keep the car under 24 hour surveillance, but it is locked up tight after we finish for the day." He traded a loaded look with Enzo.

"What?" Giuseppe demanded, catching the look. Both of them had been with his team for years. He knew them almost as well as he knew his two sons. "What do you two know?"

"Well…," Ric said, looking at Enzo again.

"Spit it out," Stefan ordered.

"We have a theory…," Enzo started. "You see, Mason… Him and Damon, they don't exactly mesh…"

"I know those two don't always see eye to eye," Giuseppe said shortly. "Are you implying that Mason might be tampering with the car?"

"We can't prove anything," Ric said. "But, everyone knows Damon and Matt hate each other. They have since they were kids racing karts. Today isn't the first time this season that Matt raced dirty. He wrecked Damon at Martinsville, remember?"

"Get to the point," Giuseppe ordered.

"Rumor has it that Mason likes to gamble," Enzo said. "Not just small change gambling either. High stakes stuff. He owes a lot of money. And, he's always been buddies with Matt." Giuseppe pursed his lips, thinking.

"We can't prove anything," Giuseppe repeated. It was becoming a mantra of the impromptu meeting. "It's all hearsay at this point. Rumors and theories."

"Mason came rushing in here after the race," Ric said. "He said something about wanting to look at the radio, but we wouldn't let him. He started to protest, but he got a text message, frowned, and took off. We haven't seen him since." Giuseppe looked at Stefan.

"Get a NASCAR official," he ordered. "Hell, get two. I want them to look over every last square inch of this car, right down to the tread on the tires. Ric, get your phone out and take some photos of our own. Enzo, help him." He looked over the three of them. "No one touches this car until NASCAR has looked at it." He crossed his arms over his chest. "And more importantly, no one breathes a word to Damon until we know more. He has four more races before he's off of probation. He has also got one hell of a temper. He has come too far to mess up now."

"Do you need some more water?" Elena asked as they slowly made their way though the infield. "Or Gatorade? The doctor said something about popsicles, didn't he?"

"I'm okay," Damon said. He indicated the bottle of orange liquid in his hand. "I still have the Pedialyte from the clinic."

"It's just that the doctor said you had to stay hydrated…"

"He also said to drink slowly and to get checked out by my own doctor on Monday," Damon replied. "I'm okay, Elena. Dehydration happens. It's happened to me before and will probably happen to me again."

"So damn stubborn," Elena muttered. Damon just smirked and allowed her to lead the way towards the motor coach she and Molly shared with Stefan and Caroline on race weekends. It had taken longer than he wanted to be released from the infield care center and then it took an eternity to get away from the clutches of his mother. He just wanted to see his daughter. Elena keyed in the coach's passcode and the doors opened. Damon followed her inside. Caroline appeared in the doorway of the coach's back lounge.

"Molly," she said softly, looking over her shoulder. "Look who's here." Damon heard rustling and a sleepy little voice ask "who?" Elena caught his eye and tilted her head towards the sound.

"Go on," she encouraged, holding her hand out for Damon's bottle of Pedialyte. He passed it to her and took a few steps towards the back lounge. Molly appeared at Caroline's side, rubbing sleep from her eyes, clad in what he now knew was her favorite princess nightgown, her hair messy, the big black and red bow she had been wearing earlier just barely clinging to a few strands.

"Hey, Princess," Damon greeted, stooping down to her level a few feet away. Molly looked at him for a moment as though she couldn't believe he was there. "Come here," he said, opening his arms to her. It was all the encouragement Molly needed. She let out a gasp and took off. She collided with Damon's chest, her small arms going around his next as Damon engulfed her in a tight hug. "It's okay," he assured her. "I'm okay." Molly buried her face in his neck.

"Daddy!"

Silence filled the motor coach, even as the soft sounds of Cinderella, on its second playing of the night, droned on in the background. Elena's jaw dropped in surprise and Caroline looked just as stunned. Elena wished desperately she could see Damon's face in that moment. Caroline could, however. She saw the tears well up in his eyes as he hugged Molly tighter. Her hand went to her heart as she felt herself choke up. She blamed her pregnancy hormones.

"Daddy's here," Damon managed. "I'm right here." He stood, taking Molly with him. He turned towards Elena. Neither spoke, but the look that passed between them said everything they needed to say. She smiled at him, tears welling up in her own eyes. He returned her smile, blinking back his own tears as he ran a soothing hand up and down Molly's back.

"Daddy?" Molly asked after another few moments. She kept her arms around Damon's neck, but moved so she could look at him. "Daddy, is you hurt?" Damon shook his head.

"I'm not hurt," he promised, his voice rough with emotion. "It was just really hot in my car and I was really thirsty. I got sick. The doctors made me feel better though."

"You feel better?" Molly asked. Damon nodded.

"I do," he said. "I feel so much better, especially right now." He hugged her again. "I love you, Molly. So much." Molly laid her head back on his shoulder, her eyes heavy with sleep.

"I love you too, Daddy."

Have you ever read anything sweeter than Molly calling Damon "daddy?" Sigh.

NASCAR is getting juicy, and not just because Damon is having a good season. More to come.

Please let me know what you think!