Hey guys! So lots to say, but I'll try to keep it brief. Most importantly, as always, THANK YOU! For all the reviews, favourites, etc. I appriciate it all!

Clearly my plan to update, at the very least, every other Sunday has fallen to pieces. I'm just finding it very difficult to find time to write. But I want you guys to know that I am determined to finish this story! I refuse to abandon it! Especially since there's so little for us Bamon fans out there (on the show in particular - though, did you guys see? WE'RE GETTING BAMON INTERACTIONS IN THE NEXT EPISODE! SO EXCITED!)

Also, before I forget: a lot of people have been asking to see what's going on in the future with Damon and his new memories, and I've tried explaining why you will not be seeing that anytime soon without giving too much of the plot away... unfortunately I think I've only managed to confuse people. So just know, that everything is happening the way it is for a reason, and that you will get a look into Damon's head eventually, but not for a long while and probably not in the way you'll be expecting. There - hopefully that was clear and yet vague at the same time. lol.

So for this chapter there's a new character introduced (very minor) but she speaks with a dialect, so it may be difficult to read what she's saying. Just sound it out, in your best Jamaican accent. You'll know it when you see it.

Final Note - You guys have no idea how much I resent Bonnie's broken arm. I'm always forgetting she only has one good arm and having to rewrite things. It's so frustrating! I just want her arm to be healed already! But it does help me keep track of how time is passing in the story. So far she's been there 6 weeks... only 6 more to go until I think her arm could realistically heal without a cast. lol. Sometimes I take this realism thing a little too seriously...

Two weeks. Two weeks passed in terse silence: two weeks of them going about their business as if the other person didn't exist. Every time Bonnie was in Damon's presence, she could feel something in the air change. It became charged with electricity. Angry red sparks seemed to dance around the space between them until it become too much for them to handle and one of them had to leave.

Despite the silence Damon continuously shot glances her way. Though Bonnie herself had managed to avoid all eye contact. The only reason she knew this was because she could physically feel when Damon's eyes were on her.

Readjusting the strap of her sling Bonnie huffed in frustration. The tension was starting to get to her, but she needed to finish the room. There was to be a dinner tonight. Apparently the Lockwoods and the Fells were coming over and it was a big deal, because the whole house was in a tizzy with preparations. Bonnie was half way through the parlour room when Damon and Stefan had entered and ruined her shway.

The brothers had spoken idly about nothing important for what felt like a very long time, all of which Bonnie spent wishing she was somewhere else. More than once, Bonnie caught herself levitating objects she was meant to be dusting because she was concentrating on them so hard. But anything was better than how painfully aware she had become of his presence. She had never felt so uncomfortable in her life.

Finally Stefan said something worth hearing. "The guests should be arriving shortly. I should make myself presentable."

"Presentable? Why brother, there is no time enough in the world for that."

Bonnie listened to Stefan's laughter as he made his way to the door before stopping. "Are you not coming?"

"Yes, of course. I will be up in a moment."

"Well hurry. You'll need even more time than I will to look remotely decent." He teased before disappearing into the hallway.

Taking a deep calming breath, Bonnie continued to dust stiffly as she waited for the shoe to drop. She could literally feel the muscles in her back knotting the longer the silence dragged on. She couldn't decide what was more frustrating: being in the same room as him or him acting like they weren't in the same room.

"Bonnie." His voice was... timid. That was the only word she could think to describe it. It was a whisper really – so quiet she wasn't entirely convinced she hadn't imagined it until he continued, "May I... may I have a moment of your time?"

For the millionth time that week she felt his eyes fall heavy on her frame. His gaze seemed to weigh down her arm until she was unable to lift it, only just managing to place it atop the decanter she had been attempting to clean as she noticed it rise slowly from the shelf. But she refused to give him any sign she had heard him and so she leaned forward against the shelf and bowed her head in hopes of giving the impression she was hard at work.

"Bonnie... All I ask of you is to listen –"

Something inside her snapped at this and she spun towards him, pointing her duster at him threateningly even though he was situated across the room.

"Like you did for me?"

He was silent for a moment, his eyes downcast. She wanted so desperately to cross her arms, but the stupid sling wouldn't allow for it, so she brought her arm down to hang by her side.

"You're right, of course." He spoke finally, before lifting his eyes back to hers. "Bonnie, I -"

"Don't bother. There's nothing you can say to me to make what you said acceptable. Goodbye, Mr. Salvatore."

She did a good job of ignoring the way his eyes widened at the way she addressed him and the way he called quietly after her as she left the room. It was all she could do to reign in the anger she felt bubbling away under her skin and stop herself from setting the whole house on fire.

Bonnie walked slowly down the corridor as she heard the voices of the guests beginning to arrive. Emily was with them – taking coats and putting them away in a safe place. She had told Bonnie that they would both be helping serve the dinner tonight in the dining hall. But dinner wouldn't be served until 7 and it was only 5:30. Bonnie really didn't know what to do with herself until then so she continued to walk up and down the corridor aimlessly. Emily said she'd come and get her when she was needed...

She had thought about venturing to the kitchens but that was uncharted territory, and she wasn't in the mood for getting lost.

"You there!"

Bonnie jumped a mile out of her skin before spinning towards the voice. Standing at the end of the hallway was a grey looking man in a grey apron... or what must have been white at one point, but had received too many stains and had too many scrubbings to ever be white again. He glared darkly at her, and Bonnie felt something slide into the pit of her stomach.

"Me?" She asked though she felt she already knew the answer.

His glare got sharper, and he bared his teeth at her. "Get down to the kitchen. We need hands."

She looked down at her broken arm, resisting the urge to make a smartass remark, and when she looked back she knew she'd made the right decision to keep quiet. He seemed to be missing one of his canines, she noticed as he snarled, "Now!"

She hesitated a moment, before revealing, "I don't know where the kitchens are."

He seemed to inflate right before her eyes, his chapped lips pressing together in frustration. Then he let out a breath, turning on his heel and throwing over his shoulder, "Follow me."

She followed behind him reluctantly. Not like she had much of a choice anyways. Not like I can say, "No thanks. I think I'll stay right here."

On their short journey to the kitchens he managed to pull aside two more sets of hands. Once they reached their destination, Bonnie felt herself crossing over a literal threshold as the heat slammed into her like a wall. It was like she had entered an entirely different world. People were buzzing about – everyone doing something. It was incredibly loud, from the pots and pans and even the heat seemed to carry a noise with it.

"You!" The grey man pointed at her. "Get over there and start chopping." He pointed briefly towards a woman standing beside a large pot before turning to yell at someone else.

She moved over to the young woman and studied the assortment of knives lying along the counter. Reaching forward, she picked the knife that looked to be in the best condition before glancing over at the woman beside her. She was focused on the potatoes she was peeling, but she did seem aware of Bonnie's presence as she paused momentarily in her actions to place the already peeled potatoes within her reach. Bonnie put the knife down long enough to position a potato in front of her. Placing the edge of the knife against the vegetable, she pressed down, but the blade rolled off to the side sending the potato sliding across the counter.

She huffed in frustration, putting her knife down to reposition it. Just when she was ready it give it another go a voice stopped her.

"Whatcha gonna do wit dat?"

Bonnie turned her attention to the right to see the woman watching her curiously.

"Cut." She answered simply. I thought that was obvious.

"Cut yaself, more like. Ya need ta be usin' two 'ands."

"I can't." She said, turning more towards her to show off her arm.

"Cheese and peas. What Thomas tinking?" She looked down at her small stack of potatoes still needing to be peeled before wiping her hands on her skirt and moving towards the pot. She lifted the large spoon from the counter and began stirring gently, then spoke, " 'ere. Come. Stir."

Bonnie walked over and took the spoon from her, continuing to stir the soup. She was beginning to feel completely incompetent. She couldn't even cut a fucking potato. How sad was that?

She watched as the woman peeled the few remaining potatoes, her wrist working expertly around the small brown vegetables at lightning speed. Once done she moved the peels to the side and placed a potato in front of her. She rolled up her sleeves, and as she did so Bonnie caught sight of something strange. There was a dark mark on her left forearm in the shape of a star. At first Bonnie thought it was a tattoo, though she didn't think those existed back then. But as she continued to stare at it she realized it wasn't flat... it was engraved... engraved into her skin, the skin around it puckered up like an old scar.

"What happened to you?" She asked before she could stop herself.

The woman stopped her steady rhythm of chopping to glance at her and followed Bonnie's gaze back to her arm. "Dis?" She asked looking back at her curiously, as if Bonnie should already know. "My ol' Massa... so me don't get lost."

Bonnie could feel her eyebrows knit together in confusion. She didn't quite understand what she meant by that, but the one thing she did understand was that this was done to her by someone else. The thought made her skin crawl and she had to swallow hard against the threat of bile rising in her throat. Pulling her eyes away from the scar, she looked vacantly into the pot before asking, "Does it hurt?"

"No." the woman spoke gently, "Too ol' to 'urt."

Bonnie glanced at her, and though the woman never stopped looking at her like some strange science experiment, she smiled warmly before turning back to her work. There was something very familiar about that smile. She thought about it briefly before realizing she was supposed to be stirring the soup.

I have one job; might as well do it.

Bonnie stood awkwardly off to the side as the guests continued on to the third course of the night: the desert course. So far the conversations had been dull and inconsequential, though Bonnie hadn't imagined that they would really be otherwise... it was more like a vague hope. There was so little to entertain oneself with here that she found herself searching for amusement in the smallest of things.

She lifted her arm slightly in an attempt to ease the strain from holding the jug of Claret she was meant to be pouring upon request. That was her job. Other people would come into the dining room and quickly clear away the plates before a different set of people entered to serve the food. Then they would all vanish into the kitchens, not to be seen again until they were needed to repeat the process. Only she and Emily remained in the dining room, situated on either side. They only moved when someone raised an empty glass awaiting replenishment.

Her jug was still quite full, its weight pulling at tired muscles that were beginning to scream in protest. She eyed Emily's almost empty jug with envy. Emily was lucky. She had all men on her side of the room, and there was a steady rhythm of drinks flowing. On Bonnie's side it was an entirely different story. Three of the five people she was responsible for were women, and it wasn't exactly seemly for a woman to drink too much, so no luck there... and the two men were Stefan and Mr. Lockwood. Stefan... well, he wasn't a big drinker. Mr. Lockwood was the only one really easing her load.

Suddenly, she felt a weight settle on her, making her tense, and she became focused on trying to meet Emily's eye while simultaneously avoiding Damon's. He had been trying to subtly gain her attention all night with no success. That's not to say she hadn't unintentionally caught his gaze a time or two throughout the meal, but she was always quick to look away.

Look at me, Emily. Look at me, she projected at her, staring fixedly at the side of her head. Then, as if she had willed it mentally, Emily shifted her gaze and their eyes met. She lifted her eyebrow at Bonnie's intense stare, tilting her head slightly to the left in enquiry. Feeling suddenly very foolish, Bonnie gave a tight smile in response. It did the trick though. Damon's attention drifted back to his drink, which he quickly downed.

Emily, though clearly still confused, gave her a small smile in return before turning her attention to Damon's raised glass. Bonnie glanced around her side of the table in hopes of an empty glass. Finding none, she reconciled herself to having to tune back into the conversation in order to pass the time.

"In the end, William managed to get the rope around her and lead her out of the river. Just in time too. She was nearly swept away, the current was so strong." Honeria Fell concluded. It was still a little hard to process that she was standing in the same room as Honeria Fell. Bonnie had only ever heard about when she was a child. It was kind of what she imagined seeing a small time celebrity would be like: surreal.

"You should have seen it. She looked closer to a drowned rat than a dog by the time I got to her." William, Honeria's son, chimed in. The table broke into refined laughter, everyone seemingly amused by the story. Everyone that is, except Damon who, Bonnie couldn't help but note from the periphery of her vision, looked bored out of his mind as he played idly with the food on his plate.

"The makings of a true hero, I'd say." Offered Jonathan Gilbert. "It takes a great man to realize the value of even the most meagre of lives. I hope that knowledge serves you well out on the field."

William bowed his head in bashful acceptance of the compliment, while Giuseppe Salvatore's eyebrows shot up in curiosity. "What's this?" He asked.

"Didn't I tell you?" Samuel Fell started, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "My boy's joining the cause."

There were sounds of approval from around the table.

"Good for you, son." Giuseppe commended.

"It's nothing." William countered, raising a hand as if to stem the praise. "I simply felt it was my duty as a Southerner to protect what's rightfully ours."

For a moment Bonnie wasn't sure she had heard correctly. But no... He had said...

A ringing filled her ears until it felt like her entire head was vibrating. She became aware of the flames on all the candles throughout the room beginning to grow as her power rose. Emily became aware of it too, because she shot her a dark, warming look. Bonnie got the message loud and clear. Closing her eyes tight against the ringing, she willed the energy in the room to drop.

With her eyes closed she listened as Damon muttered something darkly to himself, not loud enough to be understood.

"What was that?" Giuseppe questioned.

"I said," Damon spoke up clearly, for everyone to hear, "they're people not property."

Her eyes flew open and she was looking right him, though for once he wasn't looking at her. He was looking straight ahead at his brother, who she was certain, even without looking, was cautioning him silently not to go down this road with guests around.

"People can be property." Came a voice somewhere to Bonnie's left. She looked over to see Mr. Lockwood eyeing Damon in incomprehension.

"Oh? And if I made you my property: that would be entirely lawful?" Damon countered, his mouth thinning in annoyance.

"Of course not. But that would be a wholly different situation."

"Why so?"

"Damon." Giuseppe interrupted, his voice low and reproachful.

"No, father. I'd like to know."

"That's enough."

"Surely he can answer it. It's a simple question. Why are we so different? What makes us so privileged?"

"Damon –"

"Let us put things in perspective, shall we? We started the revolution over taxes, was it not?"

"There were other factors –" Stefan began in an attempt to mediate, but Damon cut him off.

"It was a main factor. We felt our rights as citizens and free peoples were being undermined –"

Giuseppe gripped his fork so tightly his knuckles had turned white. "Da –"

"These people are fighting for their very freedom. I say give it to them."

"ENOUGH!"

A deadly hush fell over the table, as they waited awkwardly for Giuseppe to compose himself. His face red from restrained anger, he managed to bring his voice down to a level, yet harsh tone. "That is enough. William is doing his family a great honour by fighting for his beliefs and you would do well to look to him. He is your better, and you will show him the respect he deserves regardless of your 'opinions.' In truth, you will find that your opinions are of no consequence here, Damon. Perhaps you will remember that the next time you feel the need to share."

The tension in the room was palpable. No one dared to move, let alone speak. As the people around the table struggled to decide how best to break the tension, Bonnie watched the light extinguish itself from Damon's eyes until his expression was completely blank. She had seen that look a few times on 2010 Damon's face... apparently he had perfected it while he was still human.

Damon tossed back the rest of his Claret before holding up his glass for Emily to refill again.

Bonnie bit down on her lip, not entirely sure how she felt. Yes, she felt bad for him, but... she was still pissed at him too. And I'm pretty sure I hate his Dad, which was an awful thing to think, but true. She officially despised Giuseppe Salvatore. He had managed to tear down his son so effortlessly, and though she was certain Damon would never admit it, he was hurt. Really hurt. It surprised her how difficult it was to see him looking so shut down.

He took another large swig of his drink and placed the empty glass on the table fiddling with it. Then his eyes lifted and found hers, and this time she didn't look away.

"Why, you have Chai tea here, yes?" A fearless Katherine broke the silence suddenly, before addressing Mrs. Fell and Mrs. Lockwood. "Have you ladies ever had it before? It's one of the very few things that I find I enjoy from India. Speaking of which, I do believe it's time for tea."

The room seemed to exhale at that, and the tension eased to be replaced by easy conversation, all the while Damon and Bonnie remained focused on each other. Neither offered the other much of anything through their expression, but just the eye contact created a sense of... something. Something fragile that Bonnie didn't want to break.

Lucky for her, Emily had taken it upon herself to inform the kitchens that the guests were ready for tea and brandy, and so missed the exchange. Stefan, on the other hand... saw everything.

Wow. I'm exhausted.

The muscles all throughout her legs were really beginning to kill. She could feel them working overtime as she made her slow way to her room. Today had been long – the longest so far, since she'd got here. And that was saying something, since time had a funny way of dragging when she wasn't being bothered by certain individuals.

A sigh burrowed its way past her lips from somewhere deep inside her. She squinted in the dark of the hallway, the only light being provided by the moon sneaking through each window she passed. She was almost at her room, and when she got there she planned to just pass out. She smiled warmly at the idea, listening to her footsteps as they brought her closer to her destination.

Wait. She thought, coming to an abrupt stop and listening harder. What was that?

Before she could make it out, the noise stopped.

Brushing it off, she started forward again and again she heard it: a pad, pad, pad... like footsteps. That makes sense. Someone else turning in for the night.

Regardless of the logic, Bonnie found herself slowing to a stop. The noise stopped too. Okay... Those aren't my footsteps, are they? Echoing funny off the walls... Or someone could be following me... Panic shot through her veins sending her heart racing.

No, Bonnie. Don't become paranoid... But... just in case... She turned slowly to look behind her.

Empty. The hallway looked completely empty. Though it was a little difficult to discern with the way the darkness warred with the moonlight, baring sinister shadows.

See, nothing to worry about, she thought, even as her palms fisted and her breath quickened. Turning stiffly forward she walked a little faster and for a moment she heard only one set of footsteps: her own. Her shoulders sagged in relief and she almost laughed at her own nervousness, when she heard it again. It was slow at first then built in speed.

Sprinting forward, she closed the small distance to her door in a matter of seconds, just managing to open it when a hand wrapped around her arm and yanked her inside, closing the door behind them. Bonnie opened her mouth to scream but another hand, warm and smooth, was placed against her lips muffling the sound.

Her heart was racing loudly in her chest. So loudly, she almost didn't hear the whispered, "It's only I. It's only I."

Damon! Her mind screamed at her, and finally her eyes saw past her own panic. The room was nearly pitch black, but if she strained she could make out the outline of his features and even a little of the blue in his eyes.

Slapping his hand away from her mouth, she had to restrain herself from giving him an aneurism – vaguely aware of the fact that he wasn't a vampire and it would literally kill him. Instead she settled for glaring menacingly at him. "What the hell are you thinking? You shouldn't be here."

He leaned forward into her personal space, his eyes boring into hers. "I know. I know, but you would not listen. I need you to listen." His breath fanned gently across her face and she caught a hint of liquor in the air between them.

"Are you drunk?" She asked, eying him suspiciously.

"A little liquid courage never hurt anyone." He admitted. She tried to get a better look at him through the dark, but she couldn't. She could see he had one hand on the door frame; he may have been using it to help keep himself upright. Suddenly, he brought his head down to rest against hers, his eyes falling shut. "I am a man of action; words... they often fail me, but... I need for you to listen."

She lifted her head away from his and he opened his eyes to watch her. She didn't put any distance between them, just moved her head back in order to look him straight in the eye.

Taking her silence as consent, he leaned more fully upon the door frame for support before beginning, "I know I deserve every ounce of disdain you may feel for me at present. You cannot fathom how I have regretted – how ashamed I am. What I said was unforgivable, and I am aware of that, but please – "

He shifted, leaning past the frame towards her, his eyes searching hers again. "I... I think you to be the most insightful, remarkable woman – no, person – I have ever had the privilege of meeting. I think highly of your opinion. Truly, I do."

She shook her head, looking off at something non-existent over his shoulder. She felt oddly flushed, like the room was ten times hotter than it should be, but she did her best to ignore the unexpected heat. "It doesn't matter. My good opinion once lost is lost forever." They may have been Jane Austen's words, but they had never rang more true for Bonnie than in this moment.

He sagged onto the frame, closing his eyes as he nodded slightly in acceptance. "I understand." His voice was barely a whisper. He straightened a little, making to turn away, but stopped himself.

"Bonnie, I... Miss Katherine is... I may call on my duty as a gentleman to defend her honour, but that is not what motivated me to speak to you in such a manner. I... I am not so blind as to be unaware of how her... affections are torn between... my brother and I. But she is truly a respectable lady, and she has barely just arrived. I believe that given the time she may grow to..." He trailed off, not sure how to voice what he was thinking.

Oh, Damon. She closed her eyes from the pity swelling up inside her. Even with her eyes closed she could feel him move to stand directly in front of her, but she didn't meet his gaze until she felt his warn hand against the skin of her cheek.

"I realize now that you spoke out of friendship to me... that you were doing me a great kindness. I value our friendship, you must believe that. And if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I would wish to remain friends."

She felt a sudden need to make some kind of physical contact, so she rested her hand on top of his and tried not to analyze it too much. "It's not that easy. I can't just forget what you said to me, Damon." She watched as the light in his eyes dimmed to nothing for the second time that evening and something inside her broke a little. "I'll... I'll think about it."

A spark flashed in back into his eyes and he removed his had from her cheek in order to grasp her hand. He brought it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss at the centre of her palm; unaware of the how it made her blood sing. "That's all I ask."