The theatre is small and intimate. The stage is set with minimal props, a table, two chairs, and a faux window. Damon sits in the audience seats with a script in hand. On stage, two actors, Elena and Matt, stand opposite each other, ready to rehearse.

"Alright, let's take it from the top of scene three. Remember, this is where the tension builds up. Matt, you've just discovered Elena's secret," Damon instructs. "And Elena, you're trying to keep your true identity under wraps. And... action!"

Elena, with a mix of anger and disbelief, turns on Matt. "How could you do this to me? Do you know the danger you may have put me in? I thought I knew you!"

Matt gets a little defensive. "It's not that simple, Elena. You wouldn't understand."

Elena steps closer, her voice rising. "I wouldn't understand! How dare you? This is my life we're talking about. I deserved to know. You haven't had to look over your shoulders for twelve years; I have."

"Hold on, Elena," Damon interrupts. "Let's dial back the anger a bit. Yes, you're hurt but also confused and searching for answers. Let's see that complexity in your delivery."

Elena nods. "Got it. I'll try to layer it more."

"Excellent." Damon turns to Matt. "When you say, "You wouldn't understand," give us a sense that you're protecting her, not just yourself. Alright, from the top of your line, please."

Matt in a softer, more earnest tone approaches Elena. "You wouldn't understand." He pauses, struggling. "Because...because I was trying to protect you."

Tears are brimming in Elena's eyes and her voice softens. "Protect me? By revealing my identity. They murdered my family, Matt. I never thought I'd need protection from you."

Damon claps. "Yes, that's it. That's the emotional depth I'm looking for. Let's take a short break, and then we'll run the entire scene again."

Matt and Elena nod and step off the stage, while Damon scribbles notes on his script.

The lights dim as their rehearsal scene ends.

The rain has just stopped, but the streets glisten under the lamplight. Elijah approaches the wrought iron gates of St. Jerome's Orphanage. The sign above the entrance creaks as it swings gently in the night breeze.

Detective Mikaelson pushes open the gate, the sound of its hinges cutting through the silence. He is a man who makes a living from the secrets of others, and tonight, he is on the hunt for a particular truth that led him to this refuge for the lost and the abandoned.

The door to the orphanage opens before he can knock. A nun, Sister Agnes, stands in the doorway, her face a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"Good evening, Sister," Elijah greets. "I apologize for the late visit, but I'm here on a matter of utmost importance."

Sister Agnes nods, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And what matter would that be, Mr...?"

"Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson," he replies, producing a business card from his pocket and handing it to her. "I'm a private detective. I'm looking for information about a former resident, a girl who is about to be twenty. I believe she may be connected to an important family. I'm working on the case for her."

The nun studies the card for a moment before stepping aside. "Come in, Mr. Mikaelson...We keep records of all our children, though I can't promise you'll find what you're looking for."

As they walk through the dimly lit corridors, Elijah can't help but wonder about the lives that unfold within these walls, each child a story yet to be told.

"Her name is Elena. A Virginia family, surname Lockwood, adopted her. I believe she was brought here from Bulgaria after the revolution."

Sister Agnes leads him to a small office, where she begins to sift through an old filing cabinet. "We take great care to protect the privacy of our children, Mr. Mikaelson. I trust you understand."

"Of course, Sister," Elijah assures her. "Discretion is part of the job."

After a few moments, she hands him a file. "This is all we have. I hope it helps you with your case."

Elijah opens the file, his eyes scanning the contents. There, amidst the pages of information, is a photograph of a young girl with bright brown eyes and a mischievous smile. It is a face he's seen before...

"Thank you, Sister," Elijah says, a piece of the puzzle falling into place. "You've been more helpful than you know."

Elijah walks into the night with a new lead, the mystery unraveling one thread at a time.

The set is bustling with activity. Amidst the controlled chaos, Damon's eyes are fixed on Elena as she rehearses her lines.

She moves with a grace that captivates everyone around her, yet she remains oblivious to the admiring glances. He can't help but be drawn in by her dedication and the subtle nuances she brings to her character.

Elena's not just acting; she's living the story.

Enzo approaches, snapping Damon out of his reverie.

"You ready for the next take?

Damon nods, his professional demeanor returning, and calls aloud.

"Elena, that was wonderful. Let's get ready to roll."

Elena smiles appreciatively and takes her mark.

Damon hesitates for a moment, then makes a decision. "Hold the set for a moment," he says to Enzo as he approaches Elena, his heart racing with a mix of professional admiration and personal curiosity.

"Elena, I've been meaning to ask you—would you be interested in having dinner with me? I'd We could discuss your character. There's a depth to your interpretation that I'd love to explore further...and I'd like to get to know you better..."

Elena looks surprised but pleased. "I'd like that."

Damon smiles. " It's a date then."

They share a knowing look, a connection forming beyond the script—a mutual respect and a hint of something more.

The café buzzes with the soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of cups. Elena, with a look of determination etched on her face, sits across from Damon.

"What brought you to New York, Elena?"

Elena sighs and looks down at her coffee. "I'm just...searching."

Damon looks at her thoughtfully. "For what?"

Elena looks at him wistfully. "For me, Damon. For who I am. I was orphaned when I was very young. I don't have any memories of my parents. I don't even have a photograph."

Damon takes her hand. "You have me..."

Elena squeezes his hand, grateful. "Thank you. I do have adoptive parents but there's this part of me that feels incomplete. Like a puzzle missing its final piece."

"So, that's what brought you to the city?"

Elena leans back, her eyes reflecting the cafe's warm lights. "I have this necklace." Elena pulls it out from under her shirt to show him.

"'Always remember who you are' It's beautiful."

"My Mom said I had it when they adopted me. I believe it's from my real family, but I hate that I can't remember. I know I was adopted from St. Jerome's orphanage here in the city."

Damon leans in, intrigued. "I'm going to assume you went there."

"I did. They didn't tell me much, so I hired a private investigator. I want to find out everything. Who my parents are or were, if I had siblings, where I'm from."

"And if you get more than you bargained for?"

Elena clutches her pendant with newfound strength. "Then I'll finally know the whole story. I'm not looking for a fairy tale ending, Damon. I just want the truth."

They share a look of understanding.

Elena's journey is just beginning, but she doesn't feel alone with friends like Damon.

Elijah steps inside the studio. The room is cluttered with sketches of faces, each telling a silent story. The door creaks open, and Elijah steps in, his trench coat trailing behind him like a shadow.

The room is quiet except for the soft scratching of pencils on paper. Focused and meticulous Rebekah sits at a well-lit desk cluttered with colored pencils, erasers, and reference books on human anatomy and aging.

"Elijah! Hi. What brings you here?" She points to a chair.

"I need your professional expertise as a forensic artist," he tells her as he sits down.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" Rebekah asks as she gets up to refill hers.

"That would be nice. Thank you."

She fills two cups, hands one to her brother, and sits back down. "Now, tell me what you need?"

Elijah hands her a photo. "Do you think you can draw her as an adult?"

"This is Elena!" Rebekah looks at him in astonishment.

"Yes, it is. A woman hired me to help her discover where she came from and who she is. And believe it or not, her name is Elena. I can't shake the feeling that this is her," Elijah explains.

"And she has no idea who she might be?"

"No, not a clue. She was adopted from St. Jerome's Orphanage so if she is Grand Duchess Elena, someone brought her to the United States. Perhaps to keep her safe and anonymous? I don't know."

"It's just unbelievable," Rebekah comments as she takes the photo from her brother. She stares at it intently before she picks up a charcoal and begins to draw.

Across from Rebekah, Elijah watches intently, a mix of hope and anxiety in his eyes. They are discussing a case that has remained unsolved for years, hinging on the identification of a girl who vanished at the age of eight.

"She would be 20 now. I'm going to draw her accordingly."

Elijah nods, his memory jogging back to the day the girl disappeared. They were at the Palace in Sophia when his father burst inside with his revolutionaries to take the Gilbertova family captive. Not long after that night, his Mother and siblings escaped the country under the cover of darkness. Eventually, they came to England and then to the United States.

Rebekah's hand moves deftly as she begins with the eyes, imagining how they might look a decade later—wiser, but retaining a spark of that childhood curiosity.

"Her hair was like a chestnut tree, vibrant and full of life."

Rebekah selects a brown pencil and sketches long, flowing hair, considering how it might change over the years, perhaps darker, perhaps styled differently, but always with a hint of that youthful vibrancy.

As she works, the room seems to shrink, the air charged with the silent prayer that this image will bring answers. Elijah leans in, watching in amazement.

Rebekah adds age to the girl's face, softening the chin, defining the jawline, and imagining the woman she would become. She blends the colors, creating a face that is both familiar and new.

"And there... I think that's her. That's how she might look today." Rebekah says softly as Elijah comes around to her side of the desk to consider her work.

He gazes at the drawing, seeing the little girl he's never forgotten, now grown.

"It's her. It's Elena Lockwood or someone with an uncanny resemblance to the Grand Duchess," Elijah remarks in awe.

"You're sure?"

"Look at her, Rebekah," he pauses, "But how do I prove it?" He asks, releasing a weighted sigh.

Rebekah signs the drawing. "You must keep me informed. Maybe Mother would have some thoughts. We know Grand Duchess Miranda's sister Jenna survived. But so many grifters have presented women pretending to be Elena... She no longer allows herself to hope."

"I don't want to get Elena's hopes up either until I can prove who she is. I don't know if that's possible, but I have to try."

"Good luck," Rebekah rises and walks him to the door.

"Thank you, you're brilliant." Elijah gives her a quick hug. He takes the portrait, a new lead in an old case, and steps out of her office, the image clutched tightly in his hands.

The kitchen is bathed in the warm glow of a single overhead light. Elijah sits at the table, sharp-eyed and impeccably dressed as always. His mother sits across from him, her keen intelligence evident in her gaze as she fills their teacups.

"Another tough case, Elijah?" Esther asks with a knowing smile.

He sighs. "You could say that. It's like chasing a ghost."

"A ghost you say? Why do you think that?"

"I have a client who bears an uncanny resemblance to Grand Duchess Anastasia. She was adopted from an orphanage here in New York. She has no memory of who she was before being adopted by a Virginia family."

Esther asks thoughtfully. "That's a deep well to fall into... Rumors have swirled for years that she survived the carnage. As you know, her remains have never been found or at least, they've never been officially declared as found."

"I know, Mother. But there's something about her story... It's compelling...Look at this." He pulls Rebekah's drawing out of his pocket and pushes it across the table to her.

"And you believe this woman may be the Elena?" Esther asks as she scrutinizes the drawing.

Elijah rubs his temples. "I want to. But belief isn't evidence. And I need evidence before I raise the topic with her."

Esther pours more tea. "I can see why you feel out of sorts. This woman does resemble the child I remember..."

"I'd like to speak to Miss Jenna..."

"That won't be easy, Elijah. She's been taken for a fool one too many times. She won't be fooled again."

"I don't want to fool her. But if Elena Lockwood is Elena Gilbertova, don't I owe it to Jenna to introduce them?"

Esther smiles at him. "You'll find the truth. You always do."

Elijah takes a sip, a small smile forming. "Thanks, Mother. I needed that."

They share a moment of silent understanding before Elijah stands up, and resolve begins to harden in his eyes.

"I should get going. If she is who I think she is, this could be the case of a lifetime."

"Just be careful, Elijah. History has a way of protecting its secrets."

"And I have a way of uncovering them," Elijah counters with determination.

He kisses his mother on the forehead and exits, leaving Esther to ponder the weight of history in her thoughtful gaze over her tea.

The sun begins its descent, casting a golden glow over the Central Park Zoo. Amidst the chatter of excited children and the occasional calls of the wild, Jenna stands alone by the sea lion pool, her gaze lost in the graceful arcs of the animals as they dance through the water.

She is a regular here, the staff knows her by name. The zoo is a sanctuary where she finds solace in the simplicity of nature's routines. Today, however, there is a wistful air about her, a sense of longing that emanates from her very being.

Jenna's mind is adrift in memories of her niece, Elena who shared her love for the animals. They used to visit the Sofia Zoo almost every Sunday, rain or shine, making their way from exhibit to exhibit, Elena's laughter ringing as clearly as the peacocks' calls. But that was years ago, before a cruel twist of fate took Elena away, leaving Jenna with a void no passage of time can fill.

As she watches a sea lion toss a ball with its whiskered snout, she remembers how Elena clapped her hands in delight at the same sight. The sea lion's antics, once a source of shared joy, now bring a bittersweet smile to Jenna's lips.

She sits on a nearby bench that offers a view of the entire zoo—the merry-go-round with its painted steeds, the monkey house with its playful inhabitants, and the distant roar of the lions that Elena would adore.

Jenna closes her eyes, and for a moment, she can hear Elena's voice and see her bright eyes sparkling with wonder.

Opening her eyes, Jenna's gaze settles on a family enjoying their day out, their daughter's excitement mirroring what she once saw in Elena. It is a painful reminder of what was lost and a comforting sign that life, like the zoo around her, continues in all its vibrant, untamed beauty.

Jenna stands up, her heart a little lighter, and makes her way to the exit. She casts one last look back at the sea lions, whispering a silent promise to return, remember, and cherish the love that, like the eternal cycles of nature, will never truly fade away.

The neon lights of Times Square bathe the bustling streets in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting long shadows behind the pedestrians who walked with purposeful strides. Damon takes Elena's gloved hand as they navigate through the crowd.

Elena's emerald dress sways with each step, her eyes wide with wonder at the towering billboards advertising the latest Cadillac models and Hollywood films. The air is filled with the sounds of honking taxis and the distant melodies of jazz spilling out from the open doors of nearby clubs.

"Look, Damon!" Elena exclaims, pointing to a group of children gathered around a street performer. The man juggles bowling pins with a flair that draws laughter and applause from his audience. Damon smiles, his heart warmed by the simple joy of being with her.

As they continue their walk, the scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby vendor wafts through the air, mingling with the aroma of fresh newsprint from the evening papers. They pause, taking in the scene before them—a tapestry of life and light that can only be found in the heart of New York City.

Damon looks up. "Look there." He points into the distance at the iconic New Year's Eve Ball perched atop One Times Square, a silent sentinel awaiting its moment to usher in a new year.

"I didn't know it was there year-round," Elena remarks, smiling at him.

Damon nods. "It's just another part of the skyline, a reminder of the passage of time." He gives Elena's hand a gentle squeeze. "Are you hungry?"

"Famished," Elena laughs.

Damon nods at a hot dog vendor.

The man is wearing a striped apron and a wide-brimmed hat and is standing behind a steaming cart adorned with "Frankfurters" and "Ice Cold Drinks" signs.

"Two dogs, please. One with the works, and make the other plain for the lady," Damon tells him.

The vendor nods, his hands moving deftly to prepare the hot dogs. The sizzle of the grill competes with the city's symphony.

"Smells delicious." Elena breathes in the aroma.

"You haven't lived until you've had a New York dog with mustard, onions, and sauerkraut."

The vendor hands them their hot dogs, and Damon pays with a couple of crisp dollar bills.

Elena takes a bite. "Well, when in Rome—or should I say, New York?"

They both laugh, taking a moment to enjoy their food amidst the glowing heart of the city.

The evening has wrapped the city in a soft twilight as Damon and Elena stroll down the sidewalk. The air is cool, carrying the scent of blooming jasmine from the nearby gardens. They walk in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes after hours of effortless conversation.

As they approached Elena's boarding house, the golden glow from the streetlamps cast a warm light on their path. Damon stops at the front steps, his hand lingering on the iron railing.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Elena," he says, his voice low and sincere.

Elena turns to face him, her eyes reflecting the lamplight. "I had a wonderful time too. Would you like to come in for a drink?" she offers, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Damon's heart skips a beat. "I'd like that," he replies, his smile matching hers.

They ascend the steps together, and as Elena unlocks the door, a sense of anticipation hangs in the air.

The room is bathed in the warm glow of a fireplace. Elena, elegant and composed, sits across from Damon. They're surrounded by the comfortable silence of good company, sipping wine.

Elena sets down her glass, her eyes locking with Damon's. She takes a deep breath, her voice is soft but firm.

"Damon, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. It's hard for me to open up like this, but I feel it's important."

Damon leans in, his expression open and attentive. "You know you can tell me anything, Elena."

She smiles, a hint of nervousness in her eyes.

"I admire your kindness, your laughter, and how you see the world. Your play is brilliant... Lately, I've realized it's more than just admiration. I feel a connection with you that I've never felt before."

Damon's eyes soften, a mixture of surprise and warmth in his gaze. "Elena..."

Elena interrupts gently. "Let me finish. I feel attracted to you. There's a pull here, at least for me. And I needed you to know that, regardless of where we go from here."

There's a beat of silence as the air crackles between them.

Damon takes her hand. "There's something about you that's just...captivating. It's not just your smile or that you see the best in people. It's your passion for life, the kindness in your voice, the spark in your eyes when you talk about your dreams."

Elena looks at Damon with a mixture of surprise and curiosity and smiles softly.

"Damon, I..."

He interrupts gently. "Please, let me finish. I've felt this way since the first moment I saw you, and it's been a whirlwind inside me. I'm drawn to you, more than I've ever been to anyone. And I need you to know that, regardless of where things go from here."

"I'm glad my feelings aren't one-sided..." Elena presses her palm to her chest.

"I'm glad, too," Damon agrees, intertwining their hands as they sit together in the soft light.

Thank you all so much for reading. You're all amazing *heart emoji*

Chapter title: Learn To Do It- performed by Kelsey Grammer, Liz Callaway, and Jonathan Dokuchitz

Forensic artistry dates back over a hundred years. Law enforcement agencies began using composite drawings to aid investigations when evidence was scarce and the perpetrator's identity remained unknown. These composite sketches, created by skilled artists, helped generate leads based on physical descriptions provided by victims and witnesses. The primary objective was to produce a single, graphic image that resembled the individual in question. Over time, forensic artistry has evolved to include various specialized skills, such as crime scene sketching, image modification, courtroom drawings, and facial approximation aids. Today, forensic artists play a crucial role in assisting law enforcement with visual aspects of cases, using techniques like 2D drawings, 3D sculptures, and computer technology to recreate faces for identification purposes.

Please check out, "Supercell" - DE are storm/tornado chasers in it. Reviews are love!

Have a great day.