The backstage area is cluttered with props and costumes. The sound of a distant audience murmur seeps through the curtains.
Damon leans against a wooden table, scripts scattered around him. He's in deep conversation with Elena, her face alight with the stage makeup still fresh from her performance.
"You were phenomenal tonight! Your portrayal of Elena was nothing short of magic."
Elena smiles as she takes his hand. "Only because I have a brilliant playwright guiding me. But what's with that look? You seem... troubled."
Damon hesitates and then sighs. "It's our benefactor. Miss Jenna Sommers. Do you know who she is?"
"No, should I?"
"Miss Sommers's sister was the Grand Duchess Miranda who was murdered along with her family a dozen years ago during the Bulgarian Revolution. Jenna escaped."
"I got out, too, Elena. I helped Jenna and her niece, Grand Duchess Elena, escape that night. My parents were servants at the Vrana Palace."
"You never told me that."
"From what Miss Sommers has told me, She got separated from her niece at the train station. No one knows what happened to her after that or if she's alive or dead. That was the inspiration for this play, Elena."
"Why are you telling me this?" Elena asks, searching his face.
"You resemble the Elena. That's why I knew you were the one to play the part when we met in that restaurant. Do you remember anything about your past?"
Elena frowns. "Sometimes I have these fleeting images in my mind. Flashes. I don't know if they're memories or even if they're real."
"Can you tell me about them?" Damon asks and squeezes her hand.
Elena closes her eyes, the scene before her blurs, and she is swept into the past.
She's in a sunlit garden where the flowers bloom with the promise of endless summers. A woman whose smile is as warm as the sunlight, holds her hands, leading her in a dance. They move together, spinning under the open sky. Elena's giggles are bright and pure. The woman's eyes sparkle as they move together playfully.
But as the memory continues, the image wavers, like a reflection in water disturbed by a passing breeze. The colors fade, the sounds dim, and Elena reaches out, trying to hold onto the moment slipping away.
She can almost hear the woman's voice, a whisper carried away by the wind, "Dance, Elena, dance with all your heart."
And then, just as quickly as it had come, the images dissolve like the last notes of a song.
"The faces are always a blur. I don't know who they are, if these "memories" are real, or something my mind conjured up." Elena whispers, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "That's why I hired Mr. Mikaelson, to discover who I am."
Without a word, Damon reaches out, pulling Elena gently into his embrace. She nestles into his chest, her breath hitching as she allows herself to be held. His arms are a fortress of comfort, his heartbeat a steady drum against her ear, grounding her to the moment.
"It's okay," Damon murmurs, his voice resonating warmth and understanding.
Elena nods, tears finally escaping their confines and tracing warm paths down her cheek as Damon holds her tighter, letting her cry it out.
The evening has wrapped itself in a velvet sky, dotted with stars that seemed to twinkle with a knowing wink.
Elena and Damon walk side by side, their hands occasionally brushing, sending ripples of unspoken words through their fingers.
A soft glow from the streetlights casts a warm halo around them as they reach Damon's apartment building. He turns to Elena, his eyes reflecting the night's soft luminescence.
"Would you like to come up?" he asks, his voice a mix of hope and hesitation. "We could have a glass of wine or just... continue talking."
Elena's smile is the only answer he needs.
They ascend the stairs, their footsteps in sync, reaching the door to his place. Damon fumbles slightly with the keys. The door swings open and he flips the light switch.
As Elena steps inside, she feels warmth and smiles when Damon tells her to have a seat.
The room is aglow with the soft flicker of candlelight, casting a warm hue over them as they settle into the plush sofa. A bottle of vintage red wine sits between them, its rich aroma mingling with the scent of the burning wick.
Damon raises the bottle, the glass catching the light as he pours the wine. The liquid splashes gently into two glasses, the sound as soothing as the classical music playing faintly in the background.
Elena watches him, her eyes reflecting the flames, a small smile playing on her lips. She reaches for her glass, her fingers brushing against Damon's as she does, sending sparks through them.
They clink glasses. "To us," Damon says, his voice barely above a whisper.
"To us," Elena echoes, and they both take a sip, the robust flavor of the wine enveloping their senses. They talk, reminiscing about the evening, and who Elena might be.
As the night deepens, the conversation dwindles, and the silence becomes comfortable. They set their glasses down, the wine now a memory on their lips.
Hand in hand, they rise from the sofa and make their way to the bedroom. "I'm going to do a little work. There's a tee shirt in the top drawer if you want to change," Damon tells her.
"I can sleep in my camisole. Thank you." Elena wraps her arms around Damon's neck and kisses him.
"Goodnight, Elena," he says softly when they pull apart.
"Goodnight."
He softly closes the door and walks down the hall to his study.
The curtains in his bedroom are drawn just a bit, so a cool, blue pearly light falls across the bed. Elena lays curled up on the right side. He looks at the space beside her, so warm and inviting, and sighs.
What the hell is he doing?
"You can come in if you want."
Damon startles when he hears her low, careful voice through the darkness.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, looking down at the floor. "I was just–"
"It's fine," she says, finally opening her eyes and propping herself on an elbow. "I've been having some trouble sleeping tonight, too."
He nods, risking a look at her. The strap of her camisole has fallen off her shoulder, dangling around her bicep almost tauntingly, and her hair is tousled in messy waves around her face.
She is gorgeous, both inside and out.
When she smiles, it is almost as if she knows exactly what he is thinking.
"You don't have to stand in the doorway," she tells him and pats the space beside her.
He hesitates, but only for a moment. This is where he wants to be. There is no point in refusing the invitation. He makes his way to the other side of the bed, and Elena rolls over to face him, her eyes blazing in the darkness. When he lies down beside her, though, the world seems to shift beneath him, and Damon feels himself sliding down that slippery slope toward oblivion with her
Elena reaches out, running her fingers along his bare arm beneath the sheet, and his eyes snap to hers, the breath wheezing out of him in surprise.
Her hair has fallen in her eyes. Damon can't resist brushing it back and tucking it behind her ear so he can look right at her. Her cheeks are just slightly flushed, her lips are wet and her eyes are so bright they shimmer.
"You're so beautiful," he says softly. Damon feels himself moving toward her just as she moves toward him, their mouths just a breath apart.
"Yeah?" she whispers against his lips.
"Yeah."
The tip of her tongue brushes against his mouth as she speaks and that's all it takes. Damon holds her against him. Tangling a hand tangling in her dark hair, he tastes her.
Elena sighs into his mouth and Damon feels the blood start to burn throughout his body, like he might spontaneously combust.
Elena moves her hand between them, toying with the drawstring on his pajama pants for a moment before giving up and curving around his cock through the fabric. He pumps against her almost mindlessly for a minute, her touch too much to resist.
It hits him then, though. What they are about to do. Again.
He tilts his head back, gasping for breath. "Maybe we shouldn't," Damon pants against her lips. "Maybe we…"
Elena slips her hand beneath the elastic of his pants then, and she holds him in her hand with the cotton to dull the feeling and he can't remember what else they should be doing instead.
"Doesn't this feel right?" Elena asks, her voice husky and low.
Damon opens his eyes and gazes at her. Elena's expression is raw and open, utterly vulnerable. The site of her makes him dizzy. He nods, unable to give her anything but the truth.
"It does," he whispers.
Elena hesitates briefly before kissing him again, her teeth nipping at his lower lip. Her tongue sweeps into his mouth boldly, and she nudges his shoulder down, so he is flat on his back and she crawls over him.
The weight of her on him, her breasts pressed to his bare chest, feels excruciatingly good, and Damon pushes up against her to increase the contact.
The sheets fell in a heap around them, a pillow skitters to the floor, and the lamp wobbles on the bed stand.
Damon clutches at her hips, moving her against him in a rhythm that leaves him aching. She feels hot, even through the soft fabric of her panties, and it makes him desperate to get at her bare skin.
Her mouth slides across his jaw, down over his throat as he arches against the bed, offering himself up.
"Elena," he pants. "Elena, please. I need…"
Her tongue rasps against one of his nipples and he loses the ability to speak.
Elena pulls away, rising to her knees as she straddles his hips. Her camisole is gone before he even realizes what she's doing, and she pushes her panties off, standing upright on the bed for a moment, with the grace of a dancer.
Damon quickly shimmies out of his pants.
Elena sits back on the corner of the bed and roots around in the nightstand's top drawer. He rubs at her thigh, needing to touch her again, to feel her silky skin against his again.
"Got it," she murmurs almost under her breath.
Damon sees the foiled packet between her fingers and watches, muscles twitching, as she tears open the condom and then carefully rolls it over him. She is gentle now, almost methodical and he feels time slow down when she bends to kiss him again, the taste of her like a drug for him.
Elena rises above him again, but this time, when she comes back down, he is inside her and the scorching grip of her around him leaves him feeling like he was being burned alive.
"Oh, God," Damon groans, throwing his head back against the pillow.
"Yes," Elena sighs back, rising over him again. "Yeah…"
She slides down over him again and he sees stars.
But he forces himself to open his eyes, wanting to see her.
In the cool blue moonlight, her skin gleams like marble. She is flushed all over, even across her breasts, and he reaches up to trace his fingers along the curve of them, feeling them bob against his hands.
Elena is too fucking beautiful, too fucking hot, too fucking perfect.
He may come in a matter of seconds, so he moves a hand between her legs, resting his thumb against her clit so every time she moves up and down, she feels the friction there.
"Oh," Elena moans, nodding her head as she starts to pick up the pace. "Just like that, just like that…"
Damon agrees, raising his knees until his feet are flat on the bed and he has enough leverage to slam his hips up against her.
"I love you," Elena whispers breathlessly, rising and falling above him like waves.
He bobs his head frantically. "Me too," he gasps. "Me too…"
Their eyes lock, the world grinding to a halt beyond them. Damon feels her tighten all around him and she throws her head back like a spooked horse and the whimper that tears from her throat is hoarse and broken.
He can't keep his eyes open anymore.
Elena is trembling around him like a hurricane, ready to take the walls down, and when he comes a minute later, his cry is loud enough to shatter glass.
The pleasure is so good that it almost hurts.
Afterward, Elena collapses against him, sweaty and boneless. The house is silent and only their ragged breathing fills the room.
Damon rolls away from her just enough to dispose of the condom in a tissue, but she fits herself against him once more and he tugs the sheets back over them.
"Maybe there's something to be said for insomnia," Elena whispers into his shoulder.
He presses a kiss to her forehead, smiling slightly.
He falls asleep with Elena in his arms, knowing everything about them together feels right.
The morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The city is beginning to stir, like a distant murmur compared to the peaceful silence of the apartment. On his bed, Elena lies sleeping, her breaths even and calm, a serene expression on her face.
For a moment, Damon stands watching her, a small smile playing on his lips. He doesn't want to leave, but work demands it. Quietly, he picks up a pen and a piece of paper from the nightstand and begins to write:
"Good morning, beautiful. I didn't have the heart to wake you. You looked so peaceful, and after last night's workout, I thought you deserved to sleep in. I've gone to work but there's coffee in the pot. I'll be thinking about you all day. See you later. I love you, Damon."
He folds the note gently and places it on his pillow where she will find it easily. With one last glance at her, he grabs his wallet and quietly closes the bedroom door.
Elena stirs and shifts onto her side, a delicious ache between her legs. As her eyes flutter open, she catches sight of a note lying on Damon's pillow.
"Good morning, beautiful," the note begins in Damon's familiar scrawl.
A smile spreads across Elena's face as she folds the note and lays it back down. After a good stretch, she slips out of bed and into the bathroom.
After a long relaxing bath, she slips into her clothes and leaves, locking his apartment door behind her.
The honking of taxis, the murmur of the crowds, and the aroma of freshly baked bagels wafting through the air greet her when she steps outside.
Elena flags a taxi to go to her apartment for a change of clothes and to check in with her parents. She hasn't talked to them since they left New York a couple of days ago and wants to discuss Jenna Sommers and her and Damon's discussion.
A soft sigh escapes Elena as she leans back, closing her eyes.
Who is she? A question that seems to echo back at her with the weight of years she's yet to live.
Shadows play across Elena's contemplative face. Is Jenna Sommers the missing piece in her puzzle which is her identity?
Elena's jarred from her thoughts when the taxi stops. She hands the man a few dollars and exits the vehicle...her mind a maelstrom of what-ifs...
The bell above the door chimes as Elena enters the quaint coffee shop on a bustling Manhattan Street. She breathes in the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and loves the soft hum of music welcoming customers.
She pauses just inside and scans the room. The shop is a warm haven, with rustic wooden tables, mismatched chairs, and walls adorned with local art. A string of fairy lights twinkles above.
Elena approaches the counter, where a clerk with a friendly smile and a worn-out apron greets her.
"What can I get started for you?"
Elena smiles back. "I'll have a large coffee and a cinnamon roll, please."
As the barista gets to work, Elena tips generously and chooses a table by the window. She shrugs off her jacket, revealing her journal tucked under her arm.
She sits, the chair creaking softly under her weight, and gazes at the city outside. People rush by, lost in their worlds, as yellow cabs streak past.
When the barista arrives with her order, Elena thanks him with a smile and wraps her hands around the warm cup, feeling the heat seep into her skin. She takes a sip, the rich flavor of the coffee. Closing her eyes, she savors the moment, the chaos of the city fading into a distant murmur.
She pulls a pen out of her bag, opens her journal, and begins to write.
The theater is abuzz with the murmur of an expectant audience. Velvet curtains frame the stage, and the golden glow of the chandeliers casts a warm light over the patrons. Jenna is seated in the center of the crowd, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
As the lights dim and the play begins, Jenna's gaze is drawn to the lead actress, a young woman strikingly resembling the drawing Elijah gave her. The actress's laughter, the way she tosses her hair back — it's uncanny.
"It's like seeing a ghost..." Jenna whispers to herself.
She stands in the center of the lush green lawn, her eyes crinkling with laughter as Jenna watches her young niece, Elena, clutching the spool of string that connects her to the vibrant kite dancing in the air.
"Pull it to the left, Elena!" she calls out, her voice carrying over the gentle breeze.
Elena's small hands tug at the string, her tongue peeking out in concentration. The kite, a brilliant mosaic of colors, swoops gracefully at her command. "Like this, Aunt Jenna?" she asks, her voice tinged with excitement.
"Just like that!" Aunt Jenna encourages, clapping her hands. "You're a natural!"
The kite soared higher, its tail fluttering like a ribbon in the sky. Elena's laughter bubbles up, pure and infectious, as she runs across the yard, the kite soaring and dipping in response to her movements.
Jenna joins in, running alongside Elena, their shadows stretching long on the grass. Together, they navigate the kite through the air, a team united by strings and smiles.
Her niece's hair and smile are identical to the lead actress's.
Jenna's eyes mist over as memories flood in. The play unfolds, but she's barely watching. She's lost in thoughts, the ache of loss mingling with the surreal feeling of having Elena so close yet so far.
"Is it possible? Could time have played such a trick on me?"
The actress delivers a line she used to say, and Jenna's heart skips a beat. She knows it's just a character, but for a moment, she allows herself to believe that her Elena is right there, under the spotlight, alive and radiant.
As the scene ends and the audience erupts into applause, Jenna joins in, a silent message to the niece she never stopped missing.
The applause is thunderous as the curtain falls. The cast takes their bows, and the audience is on their feet. As the clapping slowly subsides, Damon leads Elena through the backstage area to meet his enigmatic benefactor, Miss Jenna Sommers.
"Nervous?" Damon asks.
"A little. What if she doesn't like me?"
"That's impossible. Everybody loves you."
They reach a luxurious-looking Jenna, who turns with a graceful smile.
"Miss Sommers," Damon greets her. "May I introduce Elena? My better half."
Jenna extends her hand. "The pleasure is mine."
Elena shakes her hand and there's a moment of recognition in Miss Sommer's eyes.
"It's an honor to meet you. Damon speaks so highly of you."
Jenna's eyes soften. "And he of you. Elena is an unusual name in our family."
Elena looks at her puzzled. "Our family?"
Jenna opens her locket and inside there's a picture of a young girl with Elena's eyes. "This is my sister's daughter. She was lost to us many years ago."
Elena gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Do you think this is me?"
"Let me ask you this, Elena? My sister gave her daughter a necklace the very day she went missing. It's a gold disc with three diamonds and an inscription...Do you have such a necklace?"
Elena's heart skips as she lifts her necklace from under her dress.
Jenna's holding her breath as she looks at the gold shimmering under the theatre lights. The last time she saw it was around the neck of Elena, her bright-eyed niece with a laugh like springtime.
Elena touches the pendant instinctively, nodding. "Never forget who you are. My...my mother gave it to me..." She stumbles backward, her hand flying to her mouth. The room seems to spin around her as she struggles to comprehend. Her other hand clutches her chest, over her heart, as if trying to steady herself.
"It was hers...my Elena's," Jenna blurts out. Silence hangs heavily between them. She sinks into a chair, her whole body shaking. Tears stream down her face. "If this is part of a scheme! If you found or stole it- I don't care. I'll give you whatever you want, please, please, tell me the truth!"
Elena slowly approaches the woman. "That night, you chased me down the upstairs hallway trying to tie a ribbon in my hair... You said, "Elena, we're late and your Mother isn't going to be happy!" Her cracking voice trails off as they look at each other and know they are who they've been searching for.
"Elena! Elena! You've come home at last..."
More to come.
Thank you, everyone. So much.
Chapter title: Paris Holds the Key performed by Bernadette Peters, Jonathan Dokuchitz, and Ensemble.
Have an amazing day and a wonderful weekend.