A/N: Heeeeyyyy! It's me! With an update! And yes, I feel horrible about the long wait! I don't even have a good excuse except for general life stuffs :( But I want to reassure you that I will never EVER give up on this story. So please forgive me and bear with me. I really do feel terrible about the slow updates and I really appreciate everyone who's sticking with me. I will see this through and I will try and write faster but I don't want to half ass it, so I guess for now it is what it is.
Anyways, here we go. I am pretty excited about this chapter and I hope it'll make up a tiny bit for the long drought :)
Also no, I don't own TVD! Also, since it's been so long, let me get you caught up on where we left off last time:
The seventeenth chapter, in which a man and wife rediscover each other
Previously on "Saving You":
Elena watched her husband leave the room. Something felt off. Mason had looked uneasy and while Mr. Mikaelson had been warm towards her, he had seemed cold towards the person who actually considered him a friend. Already, their behavior had surprised Elena at the ball. But while she had discarded her concerns at the time, the situation had now become too dangerous for Elena to not trust her instincts. Something was wrong and she couldn't pretend it wasn't. She needed to figure out what was going on. In this situation, she was certain that it had to have something to do with her children and she couldn't live with herself without getting to the bottom of it.
"I'm going to the bathroom," she announced to the agent watching her, before walking out of the room and quickly tiptoeing down the hallway in search of her husband. She heard voices down the corridor and when she reached the corner, she saw her husband's back disappear inside a room and heard the heavy door close behind him. She quietly snuck towards it and put her ear against the wood, trying to make out what the muffled voices were saying.
"…horrible idea," she heard one man say that she thought was Elijah Mikaelson.
"Don't worry. Everything will be fine," the other voice, that she definitely identified as Mason's, said.
"What if she finds out?" the other man asked.
"She won't," Mason reassured him. "She doesn't suspect anything."
Elena's heart stopped. She felt a rush of adrenaline pump heat through her body while at the same time her fingers turned ice cold. This could only mean one thing. Her husband and Elijah Michaelson were involved.
Her head was spinning. Why would her husband possibly do this? Sure, he didn't privately have the kind of money the kidnappers had asked for, but Elena couldn't believe that he would put their children in danger for money. There had to be more. There had to be something she was missing.
She looked around but there was no one else. What was she to do? Should she run and get the police? But what would she tell them? She didn't have proof. She hadn't recorded the exchange between the two men and she didn't have any actual information. The police couldn't help her. She was on her own. The only chance she had now was to confront her husband and his co-conspirator. There was nothing they could do to her here and at least that way she would get some answers.
She pressed her ear against the door again, but couldn't make out any more sounds, so she straightened her back, tried to steady her frantic breathing and turned the door knob.
Elena had expected to find a lot of things behind that door – betrayal, danger, a threat to her life and that of her children. What she did find, however, was something she could not have imagined in a million years. And it caused her world to tilt off its axis completely. She found her husband leaning back against an old fashioned desk, supporting himself with his left hand while his right fist was clenched around Elijah Mikaelson's lapel, pulling him down to his level and at the same time craning his own neck so their lips could meet in a desperate kiss.
Elena stood in the doorway, immobilized from surprise. Sensory input was reaching her brain but it was not computing into a cohesive experience. She saw her husband kissing another man but she had yet to understand it.
As soon as the door had opened, the men's heads had turned towards it and immediately Elijah Mikaelson had stepped away, dropping his eyes to the floor. Mason had let the hand that had been clinging to the other man moments before sink down but had stayed otherwise immobile. His eyes were fixed on his wife now. Instantly the surprise she had seen in them turned into anger. A red hot fury directed at her, for interrupting them, for discovering them. The only thing holding him back from charging at her and throwing her against the wall seemed to be the shame she could also see on his face, warring with the rage and eventually only fuelling it further.
"Mason?" Elena asked, stupidly, needing to say something because the stillness they were all caught in seemed to suspend time and she desperately wanted to find a way to jump start it again, to leave this moment behind.
Her husband's eyes still bored into hers, emotions, thoughts and intentions warring behind them. Mr. Mikaelson's eyes however had shot up at the sound of her voice and they were now no longer directed towards the floor but looking at her intently, weighing her. And what she saw in them was different from what she could see in her husband's. There was no shame, no anger, there was – it took her a moment to recognize it – pity. Pity for the woman whose husband had fallen out of love with her. Pity for her, because she had been cheated on, probably for months, and had to find out this way, that her marriage had been a sham long before she herself had strayed. Pity because she had to find out this way. And she realized, then, that he was right – could see it in the men's eyes and the way their bodies were turned towards each other. She had been so blind. It all made sense suddenly. While it had been a long time since their honeymoon phase had passed, they had always been a team. Until recently. But their estrangement hadn't co-occurred with Damon's arrival, as she had guiltily assumed. It had gradually happened over the past six months – ever since they had been introduced to Elijah Mikaelson at a Christmas party. He trusted this man more than he trusted her, he had said so himself. The reason for the relaxation she had noticed in him was not, as she had assumed, that Damon had left or that they had found a renewed sense of togetherness through shared trauma. It was because he was here, surrounded by things that smelled like the man he loved. When his head had turned into her palm, it had not been because he felt comforted by her, it had been because he felt comforted by this place and his drowsy mind had deluded him, momentarily, into believing that it was his lover who was touching him and not his estranged wife. How often, she wondered, had the two men sat in those chairs by the fire, nursing drinks, looking into each other's eyes longingly, touching…
Slowly, the shock was waning. And then the realization suddenly jolted through her in a rush of adrenaline, that her husband didn't hate her. He only hated that their marriage prevented him from being with the person he loved. And a second realization followed – that it didn't hurt. It was a relief.
As if a coiled cord inside her had suddenly snapped, all these emotions and realizations burst out of her in one uninhibited giggle.
She saw the anger in Mason's eyes spark at the sound of her laughter, darkening into pure rage. But she couldn't stop it. Their situation was too ridiculous. The resentment they felt towards each other, the blame, it was all unnecessary. They had been so stupid. Laughter kept bubbling out of her. It was beyond her control. It wasn't gleeful, it was hysterical – like a little girl that's being tickled and can't help but laugh even though she feels more like crying. Too much had happened in the past days and she wasn't able to cope anymore – this was the only reaction her body could muster up, facing the travesty that was her life right now.
"Shut up!" Mason yelled, pushing off the table and storming towards her.
She tried. Tried hard to stop the fits of giggles spurting from her. Tried because she didn't want to make her husband angry, they had to move past the negativity. But she couldn't. Her body had started to laugh and she didn't have the strength to make it stop. Her knees buckled lightly under her and she slid down to lean against the doorframe, laughing and at the same time involuntarily raising her arms up to shield her from Mason who was charging at her.
"You will not mock me!" he thundered as he reached the spot where she was crouching on the floor and bent down to grab her and pull her up by the shoulders.
"No," she tried to reassure him as she was hoisted back up onto her feet.
"Mason," she heard their host try to interfere from behind her husband's back but Mason ignored both their interjections.
"You think this is funny?" he roared, pulling her away from the door and slamming it shut behind her.
"No," she protested again, her giggles subsiding, his roughness sobering her up somewhat. "No, Mason, I'm glad."
Mason stepped back, but only an inch, leaning his head backwards so he could look into her eyes, anger still visible on his face but now it was coupled with confusion. "What?" he asked.
"I'll wait in the parlor," Elijah Mikaelson announced and awkwardly walked past them, closing the door on his way out. Mason followed the other man with his eyes and Elena tried to decipher all the emotions that swam in them but she couldn't. When his eyes turned back to her, only one emotion was left, however, and that one she recognized right away – anger.
"You will not say a word about this," Mason threatened. "To anyone."
"Why?" Elena asked, having trouble understanding why he would want to keep it a secret, why he hadn't left her already. It was clear that he loved that man and it was just as clear that he didn't love her.
"Are you kidding me?" he spat, stepping away from her and walking back into the room, putting distance between them. "I have a reputation to uphold."
Elena watched him, disbelief in her eyes. "A reputation for what?" she asked, confusion evident in her voice.
"Family values!" he declared, pacing impatiently. "Morality."
Elena's eyes softened. "This is the 21st century, Mason," she argued conciliatorily. "No one would care that…"
She was interrupted by Mason abruptly turning towards her and throwing her a glance that wanted to kill. "That what?" he questioned, menace in his voice, his shoulders turning backwards aggressively.
"That…" she hesitated, unable to figure out why he was staring at her with such hostility. "That you're gay," she finally concluded, her palms raised slightly in the unconscious signal that this fact was evident.
"I am not!" he thundered, his hands clenched into fists, horror and outrage emanating from him.
"Mason," Elena tried to placate him, "I saw you."
"You saw nothing!" he exclaimed. "You hear me? Nothing!"
"I saw everything!" Elena returned, more force now in her voice. "I saw the way you look at each other. You never look at me that way. You love him."
"I'm not… it's not…" Mason sputtered, grappling with the words.
"He loves you, too. Don't deny him." Elena took a step towards him, wishing they were in a place where he would trust her enough to be honest.
"I'm not…" he began again and let the sentence trail off, the fight leaving him, his shoulders slumping. He turned his eyes up to hers, looking for something in them. Support, Elena guessed, maybe a way out, maybe acceptance, she couldn't be sure. She cocked her head to the side, watching him carefully and giving him an encouraging smile. "It's just him", he finally pressed out, his voice barely above a whisper.
Elena nodded. "I get it," she said, causing Mason to look at her in astonishment.
"You get what?" he asked, distrusting his wife's calmness. He had expected hatred, he had expected mockery, at the very least he had expected resentment. He had not expected understanding and he didn't trust it.
"I get being married and reasonably happy and having an idea of yourself as loyal and committed and then meeting a man who makes you discover something inside you that you never even dreamed existed and not being able to resist it," Elena explained, looking intently at her husband, gauging his reaction.
He stared at her and she could see different thoughts warring in his mind. "Damon Salvatore," he ground out, his voice heavily laced with resentment. Elena closed her eyes against the venom that spewed from his eyes. "It's not the same thing," he claimed angrily.
"Why not?" Elena demanded.
"Because!" Mason exclaimed. "Because you owe me. I saved your life and you repay me by betraying me."
"I do owe you. I owe you everything. But you don't own me. I never wanted to betray you, as I'm sure you didn't want to betray me. We fell in love, Mason. We didn't deliberately set out to hurt each other."
Mason rubbed his hands across his face tiredly and then walked over to a canapé, letting his body drop heavily onto the old cushions. "Come, sit," he requested softly, his eyes staring at the ground before his feet.
Elena walked over to him calmly and sat down, her eyes never leaving him, waiting for him to speak again.
"I did love you, you know," he said gently, raising exhausted eyes to hers.
"I believe you," she replied with a grateful smile.
"Do you remember," Mason began, amusement in his voice, "that day we went on that hike on our honeymoon and it started to rain?"
"Yes," Elena laughed lightly. "That was the best day of my life."
"It was?" Mason questioned, to which Elena simply nodded. "I thought the wedding is supposed to be the best day of a woman's life."
"Meh," Elena shrugged, making Mason scoff humorously. "Too stressful. Too much drama. Too much of your mom." She rolled her eyes playfully. "No, that day was the first day that I woke up happy and I went to bed even happier. I said to myself: you've met a man who takes being caught in the rain and turns it into the perfect date." She laughed lightly and felt herself relax when a small smile played around Mason's lips. "We jumped into that lake fully clothed, because you said we were wet anyways," she continued. "And then you found that abandoned cottage and made a fire and we dried our clothes over it. It was the first time in my life I felt comfortable being completely naked." She cast her eyes to the floor. "I think it was the last time I saw you carefree," she said, a sudden sadness rushing over her.
"That was the first time that I believed you liked me more than you needed my money," he said quietly. Elena's eyes shot up to meet his, sorrow etched on her features. "Don't worry," he waved away her shocked reaction. "I didn't hold it against you. I knew that what I could offer you was too powerful to leave room for actual feelings. I didn't mind. I was smitten. I wanted to have you, even if you only stayed for my money. Pathetic, isn't it?"
"Mason, I…" Elena tried to interject but was cut off immediately.
"I needed to get you away from those people, away from that place," he said, anger at the memory rising up inside him. "But that night, when you lay in my arms and the fire had died down and I could barely see you, you smiled at me, just lying there, staring into my eyes, smiling, for the longest time. And I thought that maybe you did have feelings for me after all."
"I did," Elena confirmed. "I accepted your proposal because I knew it was my way out, that's true. But I was happy. Our honeymoon was the happiest time of my life and when I told you I loved you, I meant it."
Mason nodded. "But it's not the same, is it?" he asked. "As it is with him."
"No, it's not," Elena whispered, nervously waiting for her husband's reaction.
"I broke up with Elijah," Mason stated, staring at the floor before him. "For a while. After you went to the house on the beach." He picked some invisible lint from his trousers. "You had never been gone before and I missed you. I wanted to give us another shot, make this work."
"But then I was too distant?" Elena assumed, feeling guilty for the way she had rebuffed Mason after their return.
"No," he replied, shaking his head. "No, then I saw him again. At the ball."
Something clicked in Elena's mind. "I saw you two leave," she remembered. "You got back together?"
He nodded. "I couldn't not be with him," he admitted quietly. "And I knew you and I weren't working. I guess it's partially my fault. I was feeling resentful towards you. I guess I wasn't really giving us a chance. Then again, neither were you."
"I couldn't not be with him either," Elena confessed.
"I'm sorry," Mason said, causing Elena to cock her head questioningly. "I'm sorry I had to send him away."
"I'm sorry I let you," Elena replied, feeling like they had reached a place where she could be frank with him.
"This doesn't change anything," Mason stated, his voice calm but firm.
"What do you mean?" Elena questioned.
"I mean you still can't see him."
Elena stared at her husband in shock for a second before she was able to speak again. "What?" she asked, disbelief audible in her voice.
"I need you to be my wife. I need you by my side. None of this can get out."
"That's ridiculous, Mason. You want us both to be unhappy so you can uphold an antiquated image of morality?"
"I don't have a choice. My mother would disown me. I would lose clients." Elena saw fear etched on her husband's face.
"No you wouldn't. People don't care about sexual orientation anymore," she tried to calm him.
She could see that Mason was struggling. He had admitted to loving Elijah Mikaelson but had not accepted the label that people would likely slap on him because of it.
"This is still the South, Elena," he spat, jumping up from the canapé, pacing, fueled by new unrest.
"It's not the South our parents grew up in," she argued back.
"But most of my clients are still from that South. I can't risk it."
"Have faith in the people around you," Elena pleaded. "No one will turn their back on you because of who you love."
Mason stopped pacing for a second and stood still, in the middle of the room, pressing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger like her words were causing him a headache. "This is not a discussion, Elena. You will not see him again. You will be my wife. That's final."
There was a silence, a pause in which the couple stared at each other, a noiseless battle of wills, in which neither seemed willing to capitulate. "No," Elena finally said, resolve in her voice.
"Excuse me?" Mason asked, turning menacingly towards her, lowering his head slightly to glower up at her intimidatingly.
Elena took a deep breath, calming herself down before she spoke again, her voice even. "I can be your wife. I can live in your mansion and manage the household and answer the phone. I can go to all the charity events you want me to go to, I can dress up and smile and take pictures with you. I can pose for all the holiday cards. I can move into the guestroom and stay out of the main wing when Mr. Mikaelson comes over. I can do that. But I can't not see him, Mason."
"That's unacceptable," Mason stated flatly.
"I'm not asking for your acceptance," Elena returned determinedly. "The reason why I let Damon go was because I felt guilty and because I thought it was what's best for Jenna and Jeremy. But in reality it was what put them in harm's way. No matter what you think of him, they would be here right now if you hadn't sent him away. I'm sure of it. And I'm also sure that he could help us find them now. So I'm going to see him, whether you like it or not. Because I need his help. And because I love him. And because I no longer feel guilty about it." She looked up at her husband, towering over her, his jaw clenched tightly, his breathing ragged as he tried to stay calm.
"You can't go," Mason said, his voice shaking and barely above a whisper. "You have to stay. You have to be my wife!" He underlined his last statement by stabbing his pointed index finger furiously towards the ground. "I need you to be my wife!" he half demanded, half pleaded, panic tightening his vocal chords.
"Mason, I'll come back," she explained. "I'm going to see Damon and then we'll come back here. He can help us"
"He won't want you back now," he pressed out, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers anxiously, scanning her, wanting to anticipate her reaction.
Pain ripped through her at the thought. He could be right. It was possible that she had hurt Damon too much, that he wouldn't be able to forgive her. With a deep breath, she exiled those thoughts from her mind. It was a risk she had to take.
"Mason," she began, taking his hand into hers. "I know you're afraid and you think you're protecting yourself. But you don't need to hurt me anymore. I want for you to be happy, Mason. I do. I want for you to get everything that you want. But not like this. Not by lying to ourselves. Not by hurting the people we love. Not by gambling with our children's safety out of pride. Don't you see that we are much stronger when we work together – as a team? You can either trust me and help me, or you can hate me. But you can't stop me."
Without waiting for another reply, Elena turned around and left the study, leaving behind a shell-shocked Mason. He had never seen his wife like this. So self-assured and determined. And he wondered when she had turned into the woman walking away from him now, regretting that he hadn't been able to be the man to ignite that strength in her.
Outside, Mr. Mikaelson, who had been nervously pacing in the lobby, stopped in his tracks and turned towards the opening door, trying to assess what had happened inside that room by studying Elena's face.
"Mr. Mikaelson," Elena said, more because she hadn't expected to run into him again than because she wanted to strike up a conversation.
"Mrs. Lockwood," he returned, taking a tentative step towards her. "I know there is nothing I can say, but I want to apologize for…"
"It's fine," Elena interrupted with a polite smile. "Quite the mess we all find ourselves in, isn't it?" she asked, hoping to sound reassuring.
"Yes, quite," he agreed.
"It'll take some time to sort it all out," she continued. "But I hope we'll get to be friends in the process."
She noticed a short twitch of surprise in his jaw, a slight leaning back motion in his posture, an inquisitive gleam in his eyes that wanted to make sure her offer was sincere. "I'd like that," he agreed, extending his hand to shake hers. Elena took it and squeezed it quickly, accompanying the gesture with a small smile.
"Then you must call me Elena," she insisted.
A wider smile spread across his face. "Elijah," he returned.
With a last squeeze Elena let go of his hand before walking past him and out of the house.
Thirty minutes later, Elena stood in front of a different house, wanting to go in instead of leaving, her heart filled with questions instead of resolve. She was trying to calm her frantic heartbeat, her racing thoughts, her crippling fear. With a shaky hand she rang the doorbell, fighting every muscle in her body that, collectively, wanted to flee. Then the door was flung open suddenly and he was standing before her, looking surprised at first and then dumbstruck, staring at her with wide eyes.
"Hi, Damon," she said quietly, needing all her strength to get words out of her mouth.
"Hi," he returned, otherwise still unable to speak or move.
Elena's skin was crawling with a million ants. It felt like a lifetime since she had seen him, even though it had really only been a few hours – the looming possibility of never seeing him again stretching each minute into a possible eternity. And now that he was here, standing before her, his breathtaking eyes boring into hers and asking a million questions she wished she could sweep away and wrap him into an embrace instead, her skin was on fire with the need to touch him, as if physical closeness could bridge the chasm she had torn between them when she told him to leave.
While she was still trying to figure out what she could possibly say, discarding all her carefully worded speeches because now none of them did justice to what she needed him to know, he suddenly let go of the door, and with one quick step closed the distance between them and pulled her tightly against himself, closing his arms around her and letting her bury her face in the crook of his neck.
While this day without him had been excruciating, she only now realized how much she had really missed him. She couldn't wrap her head around the idea that she had believed for even a second that she would be able to let him go. His arms holding her fast and his smell surrounding her enveloped her in a sense of safety she hadn't been able to imagine feeling mere minutes ago. Too frazzled had her thoughts been, too permeated were they with fear for her children. And while nothing about their situation had changed, the mere fact that Damon was here, holding her, allowed her to give in to the hope that everything would be okay.
"I'm so sorry about Jenna and Jeremy," he said quietly into her hair.
Elena felt tears start to well up in her eyes and threaten to drop onto the skin of his shoulder that she was pressing her face against. She wouldn't have blamed him for hating her, knew that she had given him enough reason to never want to speak with her again. The fact that he was still willing to be there for her and share her grief reconfirmed what she had already known – that she hadn't known what love was before she met him.
"Please tell me you have news," he added.
"They asked for a ransom, that's all," Elena replied, her arms clutching him to her, never wanting to let go, wanting to draw the strength she needed from him. "Please don't hate me," she finally asked in a small voice.
"I don't hate you, Elena," he replied, his tone tired. "I could never hate you. I hated that you said you made a mistake."
"I know," Elena agreed, still unwilling to let him go. "I hated that, too."
"Why are you here, Elena," he asked, carefully pulling away from her. She felt the loss acutely, missed the warmth that seeped from his skin into hers, missed his smell that had enveloped her and made her feel safe. "Do you want me to try and help find Jenna and Jeremy?" he suggested when she didn't answer.
"Yes," she replied gratefully. "But I also just… want you… period," she added, holding her breath, waiting for an answer.
"Elena," he began warily, reluctantly taking a small step back to create some distance.
"Please," she interrupted him, not able to bear listening to him rejecting her. "I know I messed up. I know I said I made a mistake and that it hurt you. And I'm so sorry. I was stupid. I felt guilty. But not because I regretted what happened. I felt guilty because I didn't regret it. I couldn't. Not for a single second. I…" she took a deep breath to work up the courage she needed. "I love you."
For a second the two of them stood quietly on Damon's doorstep, not talking. Now that she had said it, Elena felt elation run through her. It didn't matter what his reply would be. She had been sure of her feelings but it wasn't until now that she had been brave enough to voice them and it was liberating.
"You can never take that back," Damon said gruffly, his voice raw, his eyes fiery as the glared at her. "If you say this, I will not let you call it a mistake again," he clarified.
"I would never!" she assured him, her heart beating in her chest.
"Next time, I'm not walking away," he continued, needing for her to be sure about what she was saying.
"I won't let you," she agreed. "I don't know how I ever thought I could get through a single day without you." She stared up at him, waiting for him to do something, anything. "Damon," she finally said when he didn't move, lifting her hand to his shoulder to pull herself up on her toes, wanting to be at eye level with him. "I love you," she whispered, willing him with her eyes to accept it.
And suddenly she was jerked towards him by his hand that grabbed her neck and pulled her into a kiss, his lips burning against hers, and it was all she could do not to fall as he pulled her into the house swiftly before slamming the door shut behind her and then pushing her up against it, his whole body pressed against the length of hers.
Elena's head was spinning when suddenly he pulled away and cool air hit her heated lips. She opened her heavy lids, and blinked dazedly up at him, afraid he might have changed his mind. When she could see clearly, she was met by his piercing eyes, watching her intently. He lifted his right hand, and let the pad of his thumb glide across her cheek lightly.
"I love you more," he said with a cheeky smirk.
"I don't think that's possible," she replied breathlessly. And the seriousness in her voice made him chuckle lightly before he leaned in again to claim her lips.
A/N: Dying to know what you think! xoxo