A/N: Welcome back to a long, long, long awaited continuation of Battle Born. Check out my LiveJournal if you have questions concerning my absence or just want to talk with me:)

Here we go...

Chapter 6:

Why So Serious?

As a young girl, a young dreamer, she would think of the countless possibilities, the chances stacked against her. The illegitimate daughter of a 20-something divorcee nurse and a 30-something lawyer stuck in a marriage of convenience, she never had the normal family experience. She would spend most of the day with her nanny, Tilda, until her mother would relieve her after her shift ended. The little time she did spend with her mother consisted of diner fries and crossword puzzles.

However, it was the time she spent with the man she called "daddy" until the age of eight, that she truly cherished. Meeting once a month in a discreet location, usually a diner or a park, no matter how awkward or nervous the two of them were, he would always take her hand and tell her the same thing.

"Always remember that I love you. Don't listen to what people say, I will always love my baby girl."

It was on her eighth birthday, the day Tilda got her her first pet, a goldfish named Sherly, that her mother came rushing home, two hours early she would recall, with tears brimming in her eyes.

She looked so happy.

Her father and his wife had announced their separation and pending divorce. Elena's mother sat reading the same column over and over for the next hour or so, smile never faltering.

It was exactly two weeks later, the day Sherly was accidentally fed too much and went upside down in her bowl, that her mother came home, thirty minutes late, black streams down her cheeks and shoulders hunched, that Elena learned the meaning of utter heartbreak.

She looked so devastated.

Her father had met someone before the separation, or rather something seeing as how she had had so much work done to her that she was more plastic than human, named Yvanka Novak, a Croatian heiress. It was from that day forth that her mother refused to see him. The once-a-month visit became shorter, with her father taking her to the park, and sitting awkwardly with her after asking her how school was.

It was shortly after her ninth birthday that her father told her that he was moving to California and did not plan on coming back. For anything. She had asked him, no, begged him to take her with him; she would learn to like Yvanka.

His eyes brimmed with tears as he forced himself to look away from her, "Oh, Lena," He heaved a broken sigh, "Yvanka does not like children," Elena began to sob then, "Please don't cry. Please," He gripped her hand, "I have to leave now, Elena." Feeling her little heart shattering into millions of pieces, she ripped her hand away from his as her tiny voice bellowed, "Leave! Leave! I hate you!" She ran before his hand could catch her little red coat.

"Oh, my little lamb, it has been such a long time. I have waited soo loong for this moment." The giddiness oozed from his vocal chords, clear across his expression. His lips were twisted into a smirk.

She refused to look into her rearview mirror, not prepared to accept the fact that a man accused of murder now sat in her car, hands threateningly placed on her shoulders.

Think. Think! THINK!

The gears in her head spun and spun, unable to formulate mere thoughts before cracking and stalling, leaving her mentally defenseless.

"Mr. Salvatore." She could not believe that her body had managed to force out that broken and clearly terrified voice of hers. She felt his grip increase as her shaky hands jerked the wheel back and forth uncontrollably.

"Pull into that lot." She didn't need him to point out which one he was referencing. The lot behind the abandoned strip mall had been a recently fading source of trouble in these parts, many of the cases landing on the desks at the office.

The office. Somebody has to notice me missing...Donovan! He'll know for sure.

As the car stopped in the middle of the deserted lot, his grip fell away from her shoulders. She quickly breathed a quiet sigh before it picked up pace once more as he climbed into the passenger's seat.

God..I've never asked for much..please help me.

He sat quietly, lips set in a straight line as he stared ahead for what seemed like forever. Her ears filled with the pounding of her heart, blood rushing straight to her head. The need to faint became overwhelming, yet somehow she managed to dip her toe into the pool of inner strength.

So when his eyes darted to meet with hers, he was greeted with a look of veiled strength, one that managed to cause him to curl his toes in his falsely acquired boots.

She ground her teeth, "Kidnapping your lawyer? You clearly did not think this through."

The air full of tension was cut with his bitter laughter. Before she could bat an eye, his hand was in her hair as she yelped, viciously gripping the strands to pull her face closer to his so as to harshly whisper, "I have been thinking this through since day one, sweetheart." He laughed before pulling back and releasing her hair. She bit back the tears threatening to pool in her eyes. "You got a 'cig?"

She shook her head, afraid of allowing him the joy of hearing her voice break out of raw terror, before turning to gaze out the window.

He sighed heavily seeing the wheels in her head gradually slowing down. Gripping her shoulder, he hissed, "Time to change."

All of the air was sucked from her lungs in that singular moment. Her head snapped to face him, eyes wide. "What?"

He had met her during his rock bottom period. It's a portion of his life that he would rather file away and forget about, having labeled that folder of his life as "The Regrettable Years". It was at the tender age of 23 that, without a steady job, relying on his 'allowance', and living alone in a bachelor pad, he stumbled into a pub on Seventh Avenue.

She was sitting at the bar, legs crossed and head tipped forward over a glass of rum and coke. He didn't see her at first, completely enthralled by the blondes in the corner throwing him smirks and giggles.

But it was well past midnight, when the blondes had decided to go home empty-handed, that he spotted the brunette brushing countless men off her arm. He had sat back at first, observing as she seemingly expertly ignored the men without pissing them off, one by one. Spotting the same mistake being repeated by each guy, he stood, fixed his jacket and strut his way to the bar.

She had looked up at him through her lashes, before giving him a once over and flashing a coy smile. "Can I help you?" She flashed her pearly whites before taking a sip from her tumbler.

"Yes, can you please tell me why a woman of perfection is drinking rum and coke?" He bit his lower lip, clearly inebriated yet still keeping his cool.

She bit back a laugh before setting the tumbler down on the bar. "You wouldn't believe how many guys ordered me a martini," She reached out and straightened his tie, clearly taking him by surprise, "I mean, do I look like a martini girl?"

He let out a short laugh, brushing back his hair with his hand, "Well, surely not now," He rested his elbow on the counter, gazing into her impossibly beautiful brown eyes, "I'm Damon," He gestured towards the bartender before turning back, "Salvatore."

She smirked, breaking her gaze to take a swig, "Katherine."

"Can you at least turn?" She hated to admit it, but she was shaking. The car's engine was shut off and he had the keys in his pocket. There was no running; she was far too short and far too slow. Part of the reason she was never an athletic person, ever. He was far too tall and far too fast for her to ever dream of escaping him without getting herself killed in the process.

His face fell, "You better get used to this, little bird. Pretty soon I'm going to know you, in and out." He leaned forward, dangerously close to her. She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest to keep herself together.

She tried to pull a look of anger, but she thought that it would most likely look even more like she was scared straight of the escaped convict. "Don't ever touch me." She hissed, backing up in the seat until she hit the door, allowing for a few more inches between them.

He snickered before pushing his bottom half off the seat to go through his back pockets until sitting back down with a cigarette and beat up lighter in his hand. "Ya know, I've been saving this 'cig for when we get...but you got me so fucking high strung-fucking women..nothing but attitudes.."

In the middle of unbuttoning her blouse discreetly, she stopped midway, hands frozen, "Get where?"

Cigarette in his mouth, he paused midway with his lighter cupped in his hands, "Don't worry about it," before lighting the cigarette and throwing the lighter on the dash.

Once she had unbuttoned her shirt, she crossed her arms to prevent any peeping before turning to ask, "What am I putting on?" She was surprised when he kept his gaze on the wall ahead as his arm reached back to grab the duffel bag he had brought. Unzipping it, he tossed her a college sweatshirt, green t-shirt and jeans. It unnerved her to no end when she saw that they were hers.

Was he in my apartment? Was that him that night?

He puffed out a cloud of smoke, watching as the white cloud billowed upwards before disintegrating into the air. As quickly as she could, she slipped on the t-shirt and sweatshirt. However, it would be more difficult to take off her skirt with the steering wheel in the way.

Heaving a sigh, she stopped and leaned back into the seat.

"I have to get out to put the jeans on."

He took the cigarette from his mouth, "Fine, but I'm getting out as well."

"Alright, little bird, it's time to fly," He guided her to the passenger's side after she finished changing, "I'll be commandeering this flight."

She could feel her heart slowly sinking into the pit of her stomach.

A/N: I'm terribly sorry if this was a 'dry' chapter. This took way longer than it should have to write and it's not even good material. So sorry. I'm trying, I swear.