Hello! Who is ready for Talladega?! This is part one of 'Dega' weekend - lots of stuff going on down in Alabama. A few notes from the top:
Someone asked for a reminder of what a restrictor plate is. Given where we are in the story, I thought it was an excellent time to remind you:
Restrictor Plate: A device installed at the intake of an engine to limit its power; limits top speed and increases safety
At Talladega and Daytona, speeds can go well over 200mph. NASCAR began requiring restrictor plates in the late 80s to slow the cars down (you know, to only 200mph instead of, say, 215mph), and increase safety.
Remember, too, that Talladega is known for big crashes, so much so that they anticipate 'the big one' every race. Damon was 'the big one' the last time NASCAR was at Talladega. Youtube 'Talladega Crashes' to see some of the more exciting ones.
Now that those notes are out of the way - THANK YOU so much for all of your support. I hope you enjoy!
Talladega hadn't changed.
The track, the infield, the stands, they all looked the same as they had seven months ago. He still knew the track and facilities like the back of his hand. The same thrill he had always felt when he arrived at Talladega still washed over him.
Except, Talladega was different.
He felt different. It wasn't that he had a daughter now. It wasn't that he was back on his father's team after years of driving elsewhere. It wasn't that he had real, legitimate hope that he and Elena would find their way back to one another.
It was fear.
He wasn't afraid to race. At least, not exactly. He was afraid of the what ifs. The unknowns. Talladega was infamous for big crashes, for one car's bobble causing the ten cars behind it to crash into one another. It was also known for high rates of speeds, four-wide racing, and sometimes dangerous drafting conditions. He wasn't afraid to get behind the wheel. He was afraid of what the car in front of him or behind him might do.
He had faced a similar fear at Daytona. Three months ago though, his fear had been of driving, of racing again, no matter how much he wanted to. Despite his fears, he had slipped into his car and drove. By the time the 500 was over, his fears were long forgotten.
He knew it would be similar at Talladega. It was a long, grueling race, but as each lap passed, he knew he would grow more comfortable. He just needed to stay clear, keep himself out of accidents. And, he reasoned, away from Matt who would use the fragile track conditions to send him into a wall at the first opportunity.
They had arrived a few hours ago, in the early afternoon. Reporters wanting interviews had accosted him almost right away. Elena had been by his side the whole time, all business as she ensured NRN got their exclusive interview they had agreed upon earlier in the week, the other outlets getting canned statements about how he was looking forward to being back on the track. He had made an appearance at his sponsor's booth, signed some autographs, and had a last minute meeting with his team.
That meeting had turned out to be the reason he missed dinner with Elena and Molly. With both him and Stefan tied up, his girls, as he called them to himself, had taken Caroline and Ginny and left the track for a meal. They weren't back yet, but he had texted Elena to ask her to let him know when they returned. He wanted to spend some time with Molly – and Elena – before bed.
A familiar outline appeared at the far end of the grandstands. Damon found he wasn't surprised by the arrival. He watched as Stefan made his way across and then up the grandstands. He let out a huff as he lowered himself to the metal seat.
"You couldn't have picked a lower bleacher?" he asked Damon.
"The view is better from up here," Damon replied. It was true. The track was beautiful, lit by a few overhead lights.
"How are you doing?" Stefan asked bluntly. "You have to tell me the truth, Damon. Not because I'm your brother, but because I'm your crew chief. I need to know where your head is before this race." Damon took a breath. He needed to talk and his gut told him Stefan was the person to open up to, at least about Talladega.
"Right there," he said, pointing a finger straight ahead to a spot in the infield. "That's where my car stopped flipping." He moved his finger towards turn four. "I went into that turn and a lapped car got loose, went sideways. I tried to steer down to the infield to avoid the mess, but Kenseth got into the back of me. I cussed, pissed that I went from a position to finally win at Talladega to being at least a few laps down.
"Next thing I knew, someone hit me from the side and sent me spinning. I got hit again and again. I couldn't figure out which way the car was pointing. I kept fighting the wheel, trying to get it under control. It was the fourth car that hit me that sent me airborne. I started flipping. The next thing I remember for sure is waking up in the hospital in a whole lot of pain."
They were silent for a long time, both recalling the events of October.
"I thought you were dead," Stefan finally said, breaking the silence. "Watching the emergency workers pull you out of what was left of your car, I didn't think there was any way in hell you could have survived that. I don't remember how we got to the hospital. One minute I was sitting on top of Jeff's pit box, radioing strategy, the next I was sitting in a plastic chair in the DCH Regional Hospital, waiting for news." Stefan snorted and shook his head.
"Jeff ended up winning that race," he continued. "I didn't have a clue until a few days later. Those first few days after your accident are just a blur of hospitals, doctors, and phone calls from everyone from family members to press, all asking about your condition. Mom was beside herself. Dad was trying to be strong. Caroline was doing whatever she could to take care of everyone else because that's who she is. Me, I just… I kept waiting for the worst. I don't think I believed you were going to live until you opened your eyes." He looked at Damon. "You really don't remember anything from the accident?" Damon shook his head.
"Like I said, the last thing I remember for sure is the car starting to flip, then I woke up in the hospital." He pursed his lips for a moment. "I dream about it, though. I guess you could call them nightmares. I don't for sure if what happens in my dreams is what actually happened, but I think it is. In my dream, when my car stops flipping, I can feel the heat from the fire, smell the smoke. My head hurts. I can't move my leg or my shoulder. I know I need to get out of the car, but I can't. And then it all goes black."
"The heat was insane," Stefan recalled. "I ran for the car, determined to help you, save you if I could. Someone held ne back, but even a good 20 yards from the car, the heat felt like it was melting off my skin off."
"How long was I in surgery?" Damon asked. This was the most he had ever talked about the accident. He wanted to know about the hours after it, what his family had gone through in the waiting room. It was time.
"Hours," Stefan recalled. "It was an afternoon race. It was around four or so when you crashed. It was something like five in the morning when they told us you made it through surgery." Stefan looked at Damon. "Did you know you crashed during surgery?" Damon snapped his head around.
"What?" He had no idea.
"You crashed during surgery," Stefan repeated. "They were trying to repair your lung and you had some internal bleeding. I don't know exactly what happened, but your heart stopped. We got an update from a nurse. Thank God Caroline had convinced Mom to go get some tea. She wouldn't have been able to handle hearing that, not in the state she was in. She still doesn't know."
"We shouldn't tell her," Damon said as a chill passed over him. He had been dead. For how long, he didn't know, but the fact remained that his heart had stopped beating.
"We shouldn't," Stefan agreed. Damon picked at an invisible piece of lint on his jeans.
"Waking up was weird," he admitted. "Waking up in a hospital is scary enough, but then my whole family was there and I hadn't spoken to you all in so long." His throat constricted as a wave of guilt washed over him.
"It was weird being there," Stefan confessed. "Those first couple of days, I thought you were going to die. All I could think about was the fact that you would die and the last interaction we had was a fight. And I thought about how you would die, not knowing about Molly and how Molly would never know you. It was scary, Damon." Stefan's voice cracked. "It was scary to sit by your side hour after hour and think about how you had this perfect little girl you knew nothing about and how I was pretty sure you hated me and wouldn't want me – or Mom or Dad – by your side. Yet, I couldn't seem to leave. If you lived or died, I didn't want you to be alone."
Damon blew out a long breath and ran a hand over his face, trying to push away the dampness in his eyes. He had only ever really considered his side of the accident, the pain, the injuries, and the rehab, on top of dealing with being reunited with his family. He hadn't thought about how his family may have reacted. Stefan's eyes, too, glistened with tears he was trying to hold in.
"I made it," Damon finally said. "I lived through it. I know about Molly. Everything turned out okay. Or, at least, okay enough."
"I guess so," Stefan agreed. He looked away and wiped the dampness from his eyes. There was something else Damon wanted to know.
"When I came to, I thought I saw Elena," he said. "I know it was only a hallucination, but for a few moments, I thought maybe she had come. And then, no matter how ridiculous it was, I held on to a thin shred of hope that she would still come, that she would hear about my accident and come rushing to the hospital, just like in the movies. Obviously, she didn't. But, she told me once that she had called." Stefan understood what Damon was asking.
"She called every day for a while," he confirmed. "Several times a day at first. She was really worried about you, Damon. I wasn't the only one worried Molly might not meet her dad."
"She called…," Damon echoed. Stefan studied Damon, realizing in that moment just how deep his brother's feelings for Elena went.
"You really didn't stop loving her," he stated. Damon shook his head.
"Never," he confessed. "I know what it looks like, but I have always loved her. That's the one thing I know to be true from these last four years – that I have always loved Elena. I always will." Stefan smiled, even though there was a hint of sadness or perhaps nostalgia in it.
"It's good to see you two working your way back together."
"I hope so," Damon replied. There was still one more thing he wanted to know. "When I was recovering, both in the hospital and at Mom and Dad's, you weren't around much. I mean, you would duck in for a minute or two, but you would come up with an excuse to get out of there pretty quick." It was Stefan's turn to blow out a breath.
"I didn't know what to say to you," he admitted. "Some days I wanted to punch you in the face for everything you did, the way you left, the way you acted when we tried to tell you about Molly. Other days I wanted to tell you about Molly and apologize for keeping it from you for so long. I didn't know how to talk to you. And, honestly, there was a part of me that figured you wouldn't stick around anyway. I didn't want to get close again, once we knew you were out of the woods."
Damon went quiet again, thinking. Talking about Talladega was helping. Opening up to Stefan wasn't really taking away his fears, but it was helping him realize he didn't have to carry the burden alone.
"Aside from Elena, you were the person I wanted around the most," he finally said. "It made me feel like the dick I am every time you would slink out of the room." He let out a short sound that bordered between a chuckle and a snort. "When Dad offered me the chance to join the team, the first thing I asked was if you would be my crew chief. I think he thought I was trying to make sure we didn't have to work together. I wanted you on my team though. I knew my first race back would be hard and I trusted you to get me through it." Damon swallowed hard. "I guess I thought we could go back to being friends on top of being brothers."
He remembered every detail of the day his father had sat down at his bedside to broach the topic of Damon re-joining the Salvatore Racing family. He had been in his hospital bed, set up in his parents' living room as there were no bedrooms on the lower level of the house and he couldn't navigate the stairs with his broken leg. He knew what he was wearing, what his father had worn.
He remembered the feel of his blanket as he nervously scratched at it with his left index finger, even as he put on a mask and tried to be flippant about Giuseppe's offer. He remembered, too, the hope that he would be reunited with Stefan, followed by the disappointment when he learned he wouldn't. He remembered the anxiety that was already settling in his chest as he shook hands with his father as he promised to deliver a contract to sign later in the day. He remembered, too, how his hand had shook a few hours later as he inked his name on the dotted line, thinking already of how he would possibly get through Daytona without Stefan.
He had done it though, and now, he thought that was by design.
"Dad asked me if I wanted to move over to your team," Stefan admitted. Damon picked up on the guilt laced in his tone. "I told him no, that I wanted to stick with Jeff since I had been with him for the last few years and we had things down to a science. In truth, I just didn't know how to be around you. If I couldn't even sit and talk to you for five minutes, there was no way I could be your crew chief."
"That's fair enough," Damon conceded. "I wouldn't want to be around me either."
"You aren't so bad these days," Stefan told him, drawing a chuckle out of Damon.
"It all worked out the way it needed to," Damon mused. "I needed to face Daytona on my own. I needed to face a lot on my own."
"You have never been on your own," Stefan told him. "Even when it looked like it from all points, you were never on your own."
"I know," Damon admitted. "I have figured that out in the last few months."
He had his family. They had always been there, ready for him to come home. He could have turned up on his parents' doorstep in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday or at midnight on a Monday and they wouldn't have turned him away. His mother would have asked him if he were hungry and his father would have told him to take his old room. Everything that had happened would have eventually came up, but not before he was well fed and had a good night's sleep.
"I've been thinking about your apology," Stefan said. "I was an asshole." Damon shook his head.
"I shouldn't have assumed you were going to forgive me so easily," he countered.
"All the same, I want you to know – I forgive you. You have earned my forgiveness, but, more than that, I want my kid to have his uncle. Someone will have to corrupt him, after all. May as well be family." Damon looked at Stefan.
"Him?" he repeated. Stefan realized the slip of his tongue and let out a curse, causing Damon to laugh.
"Don't you dare tell anyone," he warned. "Especially not Caroline. She is dead set on everyone find out at this gender reveal thing she has planning. Freaking Pinterest. And please, don't tell Mom. Especially Mom. She's been going on and on about how ridiculous it is that she doesn't know and she's the grandmother. Oh, and Elena. You can't tell her either." Damon laughed again.
"I'll keep your secret," he promised. Then he shook his head. "I'm getting a nephew," he stated. "Just think of all the things I can teach him." Stefan groaned.
"You're going to be such a bad influence," he muttered, making Damon laugh again. Stefan grew serious again. "I owe you an apology, too."
"For what?" Damon asked.
"For keeping Molly from you," Stefan replied. "I had chance after chance to tell you after Talladega, but I didn't. At first, no one wanted to upset you. Then, I didn't know how to talk to you. Somewhere along the way, Elena came back and wanted to be the one to tell you. I wish I would have told you, though. Whether back in October while you were recovering or even at a race over the last few years. You could have had that much more time with her."
"I have been thinking a lot about that," Damon said. "I hate that I missed so much of Molly's life, but…" he trailed off.
"But, what?" Stefan prompted. Damon shook his head.
"That's a conversation I need to have with Elena," he said. "She deserves to be the one to hear it first." Stefan was curious, but he let it go.
"We have a practice session in the morning," Stefan said, changing the topic. "It will be good to get you out on the track." Damon nodded.
"I need that practice session," he admitted.
"I know you do," Stefan replied. "We will take full advantage of it – run the practice session, go into qualifying, and then run at least a few laps at Saturday morning's practice."
"And I will try and keep the car in one piece," Damon said. He was only half joking. Stefan's phone chimed as did Damon's moments later.
"The girls are back," Stefan said, reading his screen. Damon had a similar message on his. "What do you say we head to the motor home?"
"I would say that sounds like an excellent idea," Damon replied as he texted Elena that they were on the way. He stood and followed Stefan down the grandstands. At the bottom, Stefan stopped and turned to Damon. He held out his hand.
"Friends?" he asked. Damon grinned.
"Friends," he agreed. "Brothers, too."
"That was great," Elena said once Bill, the reporter from NRN, was out of earshot. "You were raw and honest. It will be a great piece."
"I just want to get on the track," Damon replied. "I am tired of talking about it. I need to drive."
"I know," Elena said gently, placing her hand on Damon's arm as they walked. She knew the edge in his voice wasn't directed at her, but was coming from his anxiety about racing at Talladega again. Talking about racing at the track again was one thing. Actually racing at the track again was another. "The morning practice session starts soon. You will be back on the track soon enough."
"I just need to get out there," Damon said with a sigh, glancing towards the track. He shook his head. "I don't think I was this nervous at Daytona." He was almost mad at himself for being nervous. He had raced at Talladega many times over. He had never won there, but he had finished strong several times. He had also crashed there before and as long as he was racing, would probably crash there again. That was the nature of Talladega. Still, he couldn't quite shake his nerves.
"Hey," Elena said, stopping and turning towards Damon. He stopped and looked at her. She took both of his hands. "I know you are nervous. You wouldn't be human if you weren't nervous after what happened the last time you were here. It's going to be okay, though. You are going to race and win or lose, you are going to be fine." Damon looked at her for a long moment.
"I'm so glad you're here," he admitted, squeezing her hands. "The last time I was at Talladega, I was holding on to a very thin, very unrealistic string of hope that you would somehow walk through the door." He looked down and shook his head before raising his eyes back to hers. "A hell of a lot has changed since October."
"It has," Elena agreed. She returned the squeeze of Damon's hands. "I'm glad Molly and I are here this time." Damon smiled.
"I needed to hear you say that," he admitted. He didn't hesitate in his actions. He pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her. He felt her arms go around him and some of his fears subsided, even if only for the moment.
Something had shifted in their relationship since their date two days earlier. Both of them were aware that they had a number of issues below the surface that they needed to address. Elena's hurt ran deep, and Damon's guilt, along with some residual anger of not knowing about Molly, was brewing just below the boiling point. Still, they had both given in to the undeniable attraction, the inexplicable pull that, despite everything, was still strong.
"Well, isn't that sweet," came an unwelcomed voice. "Damon and his baby mama. Where's the mini me? How many mini mes do you have, anyway? Given your history, I would say at least four, maybe even a half-dozen." Damon let out a deep, calming breath as he pulled away from Elena.
"Matt," he greeted in the most neutral tone that he could. On instinct, he positioned himself between Matt and Elena. He didn't trust the guy, whether in a car or on two feet.
"Why hide the babe from me?" Matt taunted. "We both know you will be bored with her sooner or later." Damon had to grit his teeth to keep himself from responding in the way he wanted to. He needed to be the bigger man.
"Matt, look, we don't like each other. We never have, we never will. I accept that and I think you should, too. We are never going to be friends, but we are adults. Let's just agree to not like each other and go our separate ways. No more of these snarky meetings in garages and absolutely no more dirty racing on the track." Matt looked at him for a long moment before smirking.
"You would like that, wouldn't you?" he asked. "You have always gotten your way. You have always had the Salvatore name to carry you through. That alone pissed me off and gave me reason enough not to like you. But then, you had to go and mess with my sister, lead her on and then dump her. Hell, you didn't even have the courtesy to dump her. You just started sleeping with someone else." His eyes fell on Elena. "But that does seem to be your M.O." Damon flexed his hand, willing himself not to launch himself at Matt and beat him within an inch of his life.
"I made a lot of mistakes," he said evenly. "Unlike you, I have learned from mine." He turned to Elena. "Come on. I want to see Molly before practice." Elena nodded and allowed Damon to take her hand as he led her away.
"This isn't over, Salvatore!" Matt called after him. Damon pursed his lips as he walked away. Elena's gentle squeeze of his hand kept him from turning around with the retort he wanted to say.
"I hate that guy," Damon muttered just loud enough for Elena to hear.
"So do I," she replied. "You did the right thing, though. I'm proud of you."
"I don't think I have ever wanted to hit someone so much in my life," he stated.
"Damon!" Damon and Elena turned towards a new, unfamiliar voice. It was a NASCAR official. Damon groaned inwardly. He was still on probation until the following weekend's race was over. He knew he had received positive feedback from NASCAR regarding his behavior, but the sight of an official still made him a little uncomfortable as he waited for the other shoe to drop.
"Hello," he greeted. He looked for the official's nametag.
"Craig Morrison," the official supplied. He offered Damon his hand. Damon shook it politely.
"Mr. Morrison, this is…"
"Elena Gilbert," Craig supplied with a kind smile. "She's one of the marketing people we are actually fond of." Elena and Damon both chuckled. "Damon, I just wanted to tell you well done. I saw the exchange between you and Matt Donovan. He baited you, but you didn't rise to the occasion. Way to keep your head about you." Damon couldn't hide his surprise.
"Thank you," he stumbled. "Like I told Matt, we are adults. We are never going to like each other, but we need to move on."
"Yes, well, some of us are a little more mature than others," Craig reasoned. "You keep your nose clean and let us deal with Donovan."
"I hope that means you have seen some of the moves he's pulled on the racetrack," Elena spoke up.
"Among other places," Craig replied cryptically. His radio buzzed, calling him to duty. "I should be on my way. I just wanted to let you know that you handled that situation well." With a nod of his head to Damon and Elena, he turned and walked away.
"This day is just too strange," Damon stated as they resumed walking.
"Aren't you glad you didn't hit him?" Elena asked with a note of teasing.
"I didn't hit him because I have a daughter who needs me to be a good role model," he said. "I didn't hit him because you were by my side. I certainly didn't hit him because I didn't want to."
"You did good, Damon," Elena said. "And, you're going to be just fine in that car." Damon squeezed her hand again and smiled at her.
"I have got a few good reasons to make sure I get out of that car in one piece on Sunday evening."
Damon took a deep breath as he placed his hands on the wheel.
"Damon, do you copy?" came Stefan's voice.
"I've got you," Damon replied. "Ric, you there?"
"This is so cool," Ric responded. "The Salvatore brothers, together again. We are going to win everything. People will hate us." Damon groaned into the radio and heard Stefan do the same on his end. Damon's team was overwhelmingly thrilled to get Stefan back, but Ric especially was still celebrating, even though they had already ran one race together.
"Let's just focus on the practice session in front of us," Stefan replied. "We will worry about winning the race two days from now when the start your engines command is given."
"I forgot how much of a spoil sport you are, Salvatore No. 2," Ric retorted. Stefan ignored him while Damon chuckled. The banter was helping take his mind off his anxiety.
"Go ahead and crank it up, Damon," he directed. Without a reply, Damon went through the motions of flipping switches and pushing buttons. His car thundered to life around him. "Head on out to the track. Let's just focus on getting some laps on the tires for now."
Again, Damon followed directions without commentary. He knew what Stefan was doing. He was simply giving him the chance to work through his nerves by giving him some time to circle the track. Stefan was letting him just drive for now.
With Ric telling him where the other cars in the practice session were, he guided the car from his pit box and onto the track. He stayed low on the track at first, bringing his car up to speed and staying out of the way of those already going at full throttle. Before he knew it, he was breaking the 200mph mark.
It felt good.
He had always loved the speed of restrictor plate tracks. He desperately wanted the chance to take a car around Talladega or Daytona without a restrictor plate, just to see how fast he could go. There was something freeing about having his foot pressed down on the pedal and seeing the speedometer skyrocket upward. Every NASCAR driver was an adrenaline junkie to some degree, but Damon knew he loved the high speeds of restrictor plate racing more than most.
Without waiting for direction, he started moving around the track, drifting up to the high side, bringing the car down low in the turns. He had made several laps before he realized the nerves were gone. He hadn't thought about his accident. He hadn't given the final turn more than a second thought, merely making the decision to move the car into another line on the track to see how it felt. He grinned to himself as he easily passed the No. 19 on the outside.
"How does it feel?" Stefan asked over the radio.
"Fast," Damon replied. "Fast and right on the nose."
"It's not too loose? We can make an air pressure adjustment."
"Don't touch it," Damon replied. "Not yet."
"Deal," Stefan agreed. "We talked to the 20 team. Catch up to him. We are going to draft with him for a while, see how the cars do."
"Where is he, Ric?" Damon asked.
"About a half a lap behind you," Ric replied. "You're faster. A lot faster. You can catch him in another few laps. Watch out for the 99. He's limping around the track with a blown tire. You will come up on him when you come out of the next turn." As Damon came out of the turn, he saw the 99 car. He moved up the track and easily passed him.
"The car is looking good," Stefan said a few laps later. "You're just about up with Kenseth. Damon, this car is fast."
"You're telling me," Damon said. The glee in his voice was palpable. "This is awesome." Ric and Stefan both chuckled.
"There's the Damon Salvatore we all know and love," Ric commented.
"I see the 20," Damon said. "I'll catch up with him. How slow is he, though? I don't know how long I can hang back."
"He's almost 10 miles-per-hour slower, but the drafting should help him gain a little speed. His team is worried about that." Damon nodded, even though no one could see him. He caught up to the 20 and easily picked up the draft.
For the next 20 minutes, Damon and Kenseth drafted together, passing one another, picking up each other's drafts. The 99 returned to the track with fresh tires and joined them, as did the 88. But Damon was faster. He kept finding himself going to the front of the line, even pulling away before Stefan reeled him back in. He was already itching to qualify. He felt good. Really good.
"I think that's enough," Stefan finally said. "Bring it in, Damon." Damon groaned inwardly, not wanting to get off the track just yet. Still, he knew the allotted practice time was drawing to a close and they needed to prep for qualifying. He was one of the last cars left on the track as it was.
"Go ahead and move low on the track," Ric said. "That will get you out of the way of other cars. The track is clear until pit road." Damon did as instructed. Too soon, he was pulling the car to a stop in his pit box. He removed his helmet and went to work unfastening his harness. Stefan appeared in his window, dropping the net.
"Damon, this car is fast," he said again, his eyes glowing with excitement. "It's damn fast. We have a good shot at the pole."
"I know," Damon replied, his own eyes twinkling. "Get out of my window so I can get out of this thing." Stefan moved to the side to allow Damon to lift himself through the window.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. "About the track?" Damon understood his real question and gave him a reassuring smile.
"I feel good," he said. "I needed that. I know it will be different on Sunday when there are 43 cars on the tack, all going 200 miles an hour, but I feel a lot better now than I did before."
"Good," Stefan said with a nod. "That's really good." He clapped Damon on the shoulder, then grinned. "Looks like you have a visitor." Damon looked over his shoulder and spotted Molly and Elena making their way towards him. Molly was wearing a Damon Salvatore t-shirt, tucked into a red skirt covered in ruffles, her hair in a ponytail with a big red bow clipped into it. Her earmuffs were draped around her neck. With only a couple of cars still left on the track, she didn't need them at the moment. He hopped the pit wall to go to them.
"I like that shirt," he stated, pointing at Molly. She beamed and pulled at her shirt to show him
"You on my shirt, Daddy!" she exclaimed. "Mama give it to me! I gots a hat, too!"
"You want to tell Daddy why you aren't wearing your hat?" Elena prompted. Molly made face.
"It messed up my bow," she stated. Damon half laughed, half groaned.
"That sounds a lot like your mother talking," he said, making Elena laugh. Molly reached out and took his hand, smiling up at him. He looked at Elena. "And where is your Damon Salvatore gear?"
"I'm a Salvatore Racing employee," she replied with a teasing grin. "I have to remain neutral."
"So you're wearing it under your shirt?" he asked. Elena rolled her eyes, making him laugh. "What are you two ladies up to?" Elena gave Molly a stern look.
"Molly? Why don't you tell Daddy what we're doing?" Molly sighed dramatically.
"I gots in trouble," she said. Damon frowned.
"What did you do?" Molly gave another dramatic sigh and looked at her mother for confirmation that she should continue. Elena nodded, still looking stern.
"I say dat da blue car sucks and da driver is mean and sucks too." It took everything Damon had in him not to burst out laughing and hug his daughter. He was sure he had never been prouder. She had referred to Matt as "the blue car" ever since Matt intentionally wrecked him at Martinsville.
"And that's not very nice," Elena said, giving Damon a warning look. She knew he would be pleased with Molly's actions. "We were going for a walk to talk about why we don't say things like that." Damn had to purse his lips for a moment to keep it together before he stooped down to Molly's level.
"Your mom is right," he told Molly. "We don't say the word 'sucks,' even if we don't like something."
"But I not like that blue car."
"You know, I don't like that blue car all that much either," Damon said. "But, I still have to be nice about it. Sometimes, we have to do things we don't like to do and we have to do it with a smile on our faces. That's what good people do, and your mom and I want you to grow up to be good and kind."
"You do things you don't like to do?" Molly asked curiously. Damon nodded.
"I sure do," he said. "Everyone does."
"Like what?"
"Well, your mom? She hates grocery shopping. Did you know that?" Molly shook he head no. "But, she still does it, doesn't she?" Molly nodded her head yes. Elena smiled, both at Damon's explanation and that he remembered she hated grocery shopping. "That's right. She does it because she knows the two of you have to eat food."
"What do you not like to do?" Molly questioned. Damon didn't hesitate in his answer.
"I don't like leaving you," he said. "I don't like having to go to my own house after we spend time together. I miss you so much when I'm not with you. But, I do it because I have to and I know that I'll get to see you again soon." Elena felt her heart twist as she smiled at him. She was starting to hate seeing him leave more and more herself.
"I not like it when you leave, either," Molly said.
"But you keep smiling because you know I'll be back soon, right?" Molly nodded. Then, she smiled at him.
"Daddy, I'm glad you my daddy." Damon pulled her into a hug.
"I'm glad you're my daughter, Princess. I'm so glad." He looked up at Elena, just in time to see her wipe away a tear. "You okay?" he mouthed. Elena nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. He stood, bringing Molly with him. He found he held her a lot, but he reasoned she would be too big to carry around before he knew it, and he had missed the chance to carry her as an infant. "We aren't going to say words like 'suck' anymore, right?" he asked Molly.
"Right," Molly confirmed. "I already tell Mama I not say it again."
"Good," Damon said with a nod. He turned to Elena. "You two headed anywhere in particular?"
"We're going to sit on your pit box and watch qualifying," Elena told him. "Each and every single car, according to Molly."
"You sound so excited," Damon teased as they started walking towards his pit box.
"I get why Talladega and Daytona still do it one car at a time," she said, referring to NASCAR's decision to keep qualifying as safe as possible at restrictor plate tracks by continuing the old qualifying method of one car at a time, each running a warm up lap, a timed lap, and a cool down lap. The fastest 12 cars would then each run another three laps. From there, the starting grid would be set from fastest to slowest. "But, the new format is so much more efficient."
"I'm sorry you will be so bored," Damon said, still teasing her. "But, I think odds are in your favor when it comes to writing a press release about how I'm going to win the pole tonight." Elena raised an eyebrow.
"That confident?" she asked.
"My car is fast, Elena," he said. She could hear the excitement in his voice. "It's really fast. It handles perfectly. We don't have the official times yet, but Stefan radioed that we were clocking the fastest lap times during practice. If all goes well, it's going to be a damn good weekend." Elena shot him a look at his use of a curse word. He had the good sense to look sheepish. "Don't repeat that, Molly," he added for her benefit. Molly just shrugged, having been occupied by the scene around her.
"The nerves seem to be gone," Elena observed. Damon nodded.
"I think so," he agreed. "I just needed to get back on the track." He gave her an almost shy smile. "It helps, having Stefan." Elena nodded her understanding and gave him another smile. They had always been able to say everything they needed to say with a look. They reached his pit box and Elena turned to him.
"Do you know when you go out?" she asked. Damon shook his head.
"I'm not sure yet," he said. "I'll sit up here with you two while we wait for my turn though."
"Damon!" Stefan called, jogging toward them from the garage area.
"Hi, Uncle Stef!" Molly called, waving to him. He waved back, grinning.
"Hey, squirt!" he said as he came to a stop. He reached out and tickled her. "Who is that ugly guy on your shirt?"
"Dat's my daddy!" Molly said indignantly. "And you not call me squirt!"
"My girl is feisty," Damon observed, grinning proudly. Elena shook her head fondly.
"You remember the pride in your voice when she's sixteen and all that sass is directed at you," she told Damon.
"Uncle Stef, where's Aunt Care-line?" Molly asked.
"She's hanging out in one of the suites," Stefan answered, referring to the racing suites teams rented out to host sponsors. Caroline was in charge of planning sponsorship events and was hosting representatives from both Damon's sponsor and Martin's in the Salvatore Racing suite. "I bet she'd like it if you joined her. She said you were a hit with Ragged Mountain executives last weekend." Molly shook her head.
"I watch the cars," she said. "It more fun."
"I agree," Stefan muttered. He turned to Damon. "They just finished drawing qualifying spots. You roll out 30th."
"Perfect," Damon said. "About two-thirds of the way through."
"You run like you did in practice and no one is going be able to touch you," Stefan said. Damon noticed Enzo then, leaning against his car. He jerked his chin towards him.
"What's he doing?" he asked. "Dad will have his hide if he doesn't get to work doing – something." Stefan raised an eyebrow.
"Did you really think I was going to let that car out of my sight without putting it in someone else's?" he asked. "No one messes with that car. Not on my watch."
Damon was once more strapped into his car, his helmet on, ready for his turn. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, this time with impatience to get on the track. There were still two cars to go in front of him.
"Damon?" came Stefan's voice.
"Yo," Damon replied.
"You're in the hole," he said. "The No. 4 still has the pole, but your lap times were better in practice. You run like you did earlier, you'll knock him off."
"That's the plan," Damon said. He watched as another car moved onto the track for its warm up lap, moving him to the on deck position. "Where did the 20 just come in?"
"Fourth," Stefan replied. "Looks like they made some good adjustments after practice." Damon heard a rustling noise on Stefan's end of the phone. "Damon? Someone wants to talk to you." Damon frowned. Other than Stefan, he didn't know of anyone else he would need to talk to during qualifying. Even Ric wasn't in his tower, no need to spot for him when only a few cars at a time were on the track.
"Daddy?" came Molly's voice. He grinned.
"Hey, Molly."
"Drive fast, Daddy!" He chuckled.
"I will, Princess," he promised. "You watching?"
"I watching," Molly confirmed. "Mama watching too."
"Good," Damon said. The car in front of him rolled off to qualify. "I need to go. It's almost my turn. I'll see you soon, okay?"
"See ya soon," Molly echoed. He heard more rustling as Molly gave the headset back to Stefan.
"Damon?"
"Yeah?
"Drive fast, brother."
"My girls are watching," Damon replied. The NASCAR official releasing cars onto the track motioned him forward.
"Go time," Stefan said. He went silent, knowing Damon hated chatter when he qualified. It was something Mason had never figured out.
Damon inched his car forward, pressing in on the brakes once he was in place. He kept his eyes on the official, waiting for his signal to take the track. A car on its cool down lap breezed past him, followed a second later by the car running its timed lap. Once it was safely passed, the official gave him the signal to start his warm up lap.
With a practiced motion, he eased his car on the track. As soon as all four wheels were on the track's pavement, he pushed in on the gas and clutch and started shifting gears, getting up to speed as soon as he could. Like earlier, he felt his blood start to pump at the thrill of going fast. He cruised easily around the track, deciding to stick to the low line as he was faster down there.
As he rounded turn four, he saw the flag waving up ahead, indicating that his timed lap would start with the crossing of the start/finish line. He pressed down on the gas even more and blew past the flag stand. He zoomed around the track, the car moving as though it were an extension of his body. He kept it low, not swinging out of his line and losing time like some of the other cars had done. He knew, moments before Stefan's shouts erupted in his ears, that he had won the pole.
"Calm down, little brother," he said with a chuckle as he moved into his cool down lap, bringing the car down to a street-legal speed. "There are about 20 more cars to go and if we're still have to go out a second time if we're still in the Top 12." He knew the odds were in his favor, but he was trying to be realistic.
"You just ran a track record speed," Stefan informed him. "If anyone here has enough car to beat that, I'll kiss their ass myself." Damon just laughed.
This was going to be a good weekend.
He could feel it in his bones.
"How long are you going to wear that smirk?" Elena asked. Damon could tell by the twinkle in her eye that she was teasing. His smirk became more pronounced.
"At least until the green flag drops on Sunday," he replied. "Probably longer." Elena rolled her eyes playfully.
They were seated in lawn chairs outside of the motor home Elena shared with Stefan and Caroline. His parents' motor home was on the other side, his that he shared with his team next to it. The whole Salvatore family plus several members of Damon's team, Ric and Enzo included, had ended up in the green space by Elena's motor home, grilling burgers and hot dogs in celebration of Damon winning the pole for Sunday's race. His team had since slowly trickled away with excuses ranging from bed to calling home. Molly had fallen asleep in Damon's lap after a rousing game of soccer with Damon and Stefan in which they let her win and he had just returned from putting her in her bunk for the night.
"Well, I'm tired of looking at his smirk," Caroline said from her lawn chair. Whether she was teasing or not, Damon wasn't sure. Caroline seemed to have thawed towards him since witnessing Molly call him 'Daddy' for the first time, but she was still standoffish. "It's getting late. I think I'm going to turn in." Stefan stood to help her to her feet.
"I think I'll head in with you," he said. "It's been a long day and we have plenty to do tomorrow."
"See you in the morning," Damon said.
"Goodnight, Care, Stefan," Elena added. "I'll be in soon. I don't have Molly's monitor, so if she wakes up in the next few minutes, come get me?"
"I have it," Damon chimed in, producing the baby monitor. He was pretty sure it was more for Elena than for Molly, as Molly tended to sleep through the night just fine, but he didn't point that out.
"Alright then," Stefan said. "Night, everyone." The group echoed their goodnights as they parted ways. Ginny stood, too.
"We should turn in as well," she said. Damon didn't miss the pointed look she gave Giuseppe. He smirked to himself. His mother was trying to leave him alone with Elena. He didn't mind one bit.
"I suppose so," Giuseppe agreed, pushing himself out of his chair.
"Don't sit up too late," Ginny warned, leaning down to kiss first the top of Elena's head, and then Damon's.
"We won't," Elena promised.
"Goodnight, caro," Giuseppe said, giving Elena a fond pat on the shoulder. He turned to Damon. "Good job today, son. I'm so proud of you." Damon beamed.
"Thanks, Dad," he said. "For everything." Giuseppe's reply was brief nod and a wink. "Like your mother said, don't sit up too late." He put his hand on Ginny's back and started to lead her towards their motor home.
"Hey, Mom?" Damon called. Both Ginny and Giuseppe turned towards him. "Do you know what you're making for breakfast on Sunday morning?" Ginny notoriously made a pre-race breakfast every race day. It was over breakfast at Daytona that Damon had realized Molly was his.
"I have some thoughts, but I haven't been to the grocery store for supplies yet," she answered. "Is there something in particular you want?"
"Sausage gravy and biscuits?" Damon asked with a sheepish grin. "Maybe?"
"I think that's doable," Ginny said with a smile. Damon knew she understood – it was a peace offering, of sorts. He would still need to talk with his mother, but asking her to cook for him, take care of him, was speaking her love language.
"Maybe with a side of bacon?" Elena piped up, grinning hopefully.
"You trying to get in on my meal?" Damon asked, teasing her. There had been a lot of good-natured ribbing tonight. Elena shrugged.
"If she's taking request."
"Sausage gravy, biscuits, and bacon it is," Ginny said. "I will go to the grocery store tomorrow and get the ingredients." She was already planning how she would use her hot plate and griddle to make Sunday's breakfast.
"As long as there is coffee, I don't care what we have," Giuseppe said. "Come along, Tesoro. The mosquitos are biting me." Giuseppe and Ginny disappeared in the direction of their bus. Elena leaned her head back, looking at Damon.
"You are in a really good mood," she observed.
"It's been a really good day," Damon replied, leaning his own head back, his eyes on her.
"You won the pole," she said.
"And set a new track record," Damon reminded her. He liked bringing that particular point up. "Fastest qualifying time ever recorded at Talladega."
"Technically it's the fastest qualifying lap recorded with a restrictor plate," Elena corrected him. "Bill Elliot's 1987 record still holds as the fastest qualifying time at Talladega." While Damon had set the track qualifying record with a restrictor plate, the fastest time ever was recorded the last season before restrictor plates were mandated.
"Minor detail," Damon said with a wave of his hand, making Elena laugh lightly.
"How are the nerves?" she asked. Damon blew out a breath.
"Last night, I was freaking out," he admitted. "I went and sat up in the stands for a while, just watching the front stretch where my car landed. Stefan showed up and we talked. I was pretty worked up before practice today, but Stefan knew what he was doing. He let me settle down and just drive the car. It all came together, feeling the car under me, going fast. By the time qualifying rolled around, I felt like I was on top of the world."
"And how do you feel now?" Elena asked. Damon reached over and took her hand.
"Like I'm floating above it," he said.
"So smooth," Elena said with a grin. Damon shrugged.
"Like I said, it's been a good day." Elena continued to study him.
"You have changed so much in the last few months," she finally said. "In a good way." Damon was silent for a long time, his thumb grazing back and forth across the back of Elena's hand.
"I spent a long time in a really dark place," he finally said. "It's good to see the sun."
"You are in the sun now?" Elena asked. Damon nodded.
"Most days," he confirmed. "There are some rough days here and there, but I guess that's just life."
"There have definitely been some hard days," she agreed.
"You know," Damon mused, thinking, "if this were a Shakespeare play, my tragic flaw would be pride."
"Pride?"
"I let my own pride get in the way of asking for help," he said. "But, that's for another day." He squeezed her hand to let her know he would tell her more, soon. "So, Wednesday night," he ventured. "That was an okay date?" Elena smiled. Damon was looking for reassurance.
"It was an okay date," she agreed. "I especially liked the milkshake." Damon smiled.
"How did I know you would like that part?" he asked. He suddenly became interested in his fingers. "You think maybe I can take you out again?" Elena looked at him.
"Are you asking me on another date?" Damon nodded.
"Just as eloquently as I asked you out on the first one apparently," he said wryly, making Elena laugh.
"Well, I will agree, just like I did the first time," she said. "And hopefully, you will accept my agreement a lot easier than you did the first time." It was Damon's turn to chuckle.
"I'm not going to question it," he said. "You might change your mind." Elena smiled, but grew serious a few moments later.
"Damon, we still have a lot we need to talk about," she said carefully. Damon nodded.
"I know," he admitted. He reached over and took her hand, then gave it a little squeeze. "Whenever you want to talk, I'll be ready. But, in the meantime, I'm going to continue executing my plan to remind you at every turn that I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." Elena smiled again.
"You're doing a pretty good job of that," she confirmed.
"Good to know," Damon quipped. "But, it is getting late. We should probably turn in, too." Elena nodded.
"We should," she agreed. They stood and Damon offered Elena his arm.
"Let me walk you to your door."
"A whole ten feet away," Elena replied, even as she linked her arm though Damon's.
"A lot can happen in ten feet," Damon mused. A few steps later, they were at the door of Elena's motor home. "See that? Home safe and sound."
"My hero," Elena teased, turning to face him. As she turned, her arm slipped from its link with Damon's, but her hand still rested near his elbow.
"Give Molly a kiss for me," he said. "I will see you both in the morning." Elena nodded.
"I will and you will," she replied. Their eyes locked, whether on purpose or accidental neither of them knew. Damon subconsciously licked his lips. He wanted desperately to kiss her. One hand went to her waist, the other moved to push her hair back from her face. He leaned in, just as she leaned towards him. Their lips were mere inches away when Damon felt Elena's hands on his chest, gently pushing him away.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have…" Elena pressed on his chest gently to quiet him.
"It's okay," she assured him. "It's just… I'm not… Not yet, okay? Not until we figure some stuff out." Damon nodded, wondering what the "not until we figure some stuff out" bit meant. He hoped it meant a lot of kissing, maybe more, down the road. He missed kissing, among other things.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I don't want to push you. I won't push you." Elena smiled up to him, took his hand in hers, and gave it a squeeze. She found that was how they communicated the bigger things these days – through smiles and squeezes of their hands.
"You're doing fine," she told him. She surprised him then by moving to her tiptoes and grazing her lips across his cheek. He was pretty sure he blushed as she turned to type in her home's key code. She looked over her shoulder and winked at him. "Goodnight, Damon."
"Night, Elena," he said, taking a couple of steps backwards, watching her disappear inside before he turned and headed towards his own home, a smile permanently on his face.
It was going to be a good weekend.
So, not only was this, BY FAR, the longest update to date, there was also a lot happening. I opted to give you longer updates from Talladega, rather than break them down into smaller sections. I hope that's cool!
Lots of NASCAR in this one, but even more NASCAR to come - stay tuned for race day! And, the next practice session...
Please let me know what you thought!