Author's note: You're all absolutely lovely. I'm beyond honored to be part of such a warm and welcoming fandom. :) Big hugs to scarlett2112 and Florencia7, especially, for their awesome support. :D
Now that Chaotic Good is done, this fic is my primary literary focus (at least for now). :D Serendipity only has 3 chapters left! After that, it's just this and Midsummer, until I finally start posting my post-series story about Damon and Elena being witches. :D (Which is probably the really, really big story.) YAY! :D
It took several whole seconds before Elena could speak again. The words kept replaying in her head, like a penetrating echo that silenced everything else through sheer force of its existence.
"You're running around Whitmore saving college students by day, and healing hospital patients by night."
Although Elena was acutely aware that she had been about the make the confession herself, she would have softened it – sugarcoated it – laced it with languid kisses and a wry reminder of their little deal where Damon gave her a pass for one crazy, mindless, reckless endeavor, wrapped in an embrace and sweet declarations of love.
Instead, it was out there, at once booming and soundless.
Several times, she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her mind flittered through apologies, ardent defenses, clever attempts at misdirection like a giant mental rolodex spinning through her anxiety.
She finally allowed her eyes to focus, making peace with the fact that no words would suddenly come to her rescue. Damon's face seemed to run the gamut of various emotions, all of them intense, ultimately culminating in a silent, crushing embrace.
Profound relief mixed with blind panic in a volatile cocktail of emotions that manifested – of all gestures – in a hug, albeit a fierce one.
While mentally rehearsing her practiced speech, all semblance of which left her the second she saw Damon in her room, Elena's mind predicted several possible scenarios.
This certainly was not one of them.
With her head buried in his shoulder, she felt the rapid beating of his heart, which only added to her own curious sense of confusion. Sure, she had been a bit careless, but wasn't this an overreaction?
Whitmore hardly had the paranoia or history of Mystic Falls, and college campuses were all but known for eccentric characters and their equally flamboyant actions. Surely, she couldn't be the first student to attempt life as a vigilante.
Possibly not even the first supernatural one.
Sinking into the embrace, she brought her arms around his waist, and pressed her palms flat against his back, molding into him, as close as possible. Maybe she completely misunderstood him, and he was just super-proud of her display of ingenuity.
"Damon," she finally found her voice, though it was muffled since her mouth was pressed so hard into his shoulder. Nevertheless, it was decipherable enough. "Are you okay?"
"We're leaving," he ground out into her hair, though made absolutely no move to let go. If she didn't know better, she would say he seemed panicked, which is not an emotion she normally associated with Damon Salvatore – whom she'd seen scared only a handful of times in her life, and all of them had to do with her. "Now. Pack your bags and let's go." He still wouldn't let go of her, squeezing one hand around her shoulder and the other around her waist, and his eyes shut so tightly, that it was as though he was afraid that if he let go even a little, then he would immediately lose her to the danger that crept through the university's halls like a tenacious specter.
Although a part of Damon was sure that the Augustine Society was long gone, it was hard to deny its influence on the place, and mere seconds before Elena walked in, he had all kinds of daymares about her being captured by them.
"You have to let go of me first," Elena replied, trying to keep her tone light, finally moving her head to a place where sound could travel easier, though she sincerely doubted that it would be enough to soothe him.
It was as though a spell broke, and Damon suddenly pulled away, his ever-present mask back in place. Unwilling to let him withdraw into himself, Elena gently cupped his face. "Damon, what is it?"
"I'll tell you in the car, Elena," he replied, his tone once again carrying that cadence of half-musicality, half-sarcasm that meant that he felt like his normal, wry self – or he was desperately pretending to be. "Your illicit campus activities are not for young and innocent little college kid ears."
"Fine," she sighed, not seeing a point in discussing this until they left campus. Clearly something about this place today had him spooked. Maybe he accidentally walked into campus paint-balloon fight that threatened to defile his precious John Varvatos shirt.
She sobered then, chancing a glance at him as she quickly rolled clothing into her weekend suitcase. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just didn't want it to be a phone conversation," she explained, though that was only half-true. The other half was that she was positive that he wouldn't be pleased, though she hardly expected him to be this unsettled by it all.
Bonnie's specter watched the retreating couple exit the room. Her eyebrows drawn together in consternation, she noted that she had never seen Damon quite so alarmed. Granted, he rarely showed his true emotions to anyone – and over the last few months, she'd had more than an eyeful of his interactions with Elena. Far more than she ever wanted to see. Ever. She shuddered.
Poor Jeremy.
Regardless, it did allow her to see a softer, kinder side to the vampire, that she hitherto would have balked to admit he possessed. But this was different.
From Elena's conversations with Caroline, she deduced that Megan's disappearance had everything to do with a violent vampire roaming the campus – particularly Whitmore Hall. As vampires, her friends had been prevented from exploring said building. As a ghost, she had no such limitations.
Although life on the Other Side was decidedly lonely, Bonnie did find a few perks to existence as a spirit. For one, she could will herself from place to place in the real world, in a manner much like teleportation. As such, when she found herself at the entrance to Whitmore Hall, she boldly stepped inside.
Unsure of what to seek, Bonnie set to explore. Curiosity directed her to a photograph on a wall – a group of doctors. Her eyes widened in recognition. Was that Dr. Gilbert? So, he was affiliated with this society?
Clearly neither Elena nor Jeremy seemed to know anything. Secret society, indeed.
Bonnie, despite being invisible to living humans, had to fight the urge to hide when she saw a harried-looking blond man bulldoze into the room, filled with a quiet disdain for those he perceived to be his underlings – which Bonnie reasoned must have been nearly everyone, given his haughty demeanor. He wasted little time before heading downstairs, everything in his aura positively alarmed.
Curious, she followed him into what she decided was the creepiest basement she'd ever seen.
"Hello, one-two-one-four-four. I've a big task and long day ahead of me, so we're going to start early," she heard him announce into what looked like a cell.
Gathering her courage, Bonnie reminded herself that they could not see her, and stepped closer.
She gasped when she saw that inside the cell was a decidedly malnourished-looking man.
"What was that?" Elena finally asked, after about fifteen minutes of absolute silence, watching Damon grip the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles resembled intricate snow sculptures more than living flesh. "You're being really weird," she felt the absolute need to point out when she reached to take his hand but found it stiffer than the metaphorical stick Damon keeps insisting that Stefan keeps in a certain part of his anatomy. It wasn't until she squeezed his hand that she noticed just how haunted his eyes looked. "Hey…"
"You know, Elena," Damon attempted mask his very obvious distress with wry deflection. "You're not Spiderman. Just because you've inherited a great and sexy set of powers, doesn't mean you suddenly have all this great responsibility. You could just have fun."
Elena smiled, despite herself, though a large part of her hoped that if she allowed herself to fall into an easier mood with him, perhaps he would be more forthcoming about what looked like the beginning of a panic attack earlier. "Are you saying I wouldn't look cute rescuing students in brightly-colored spandex and a mask?"
Damon grinned, considerably more comfortable with the turn of the conversation, and also now that they were on the highway, with Whitmore University in their dust. "If you want to wear a tight spandex – or leather – outfit and a mask, Elena, there are much healthier and sexier outlets for it," he raised an eyebrow suggestively.
"I think using our powers to save lives is very sexy," Elena quickly retorted with a smug grin, feeling quite proud of herself for steering the conversation back to the topic of her exploits, though she grudgingly admitted that it mostly happened by accident.
"Ugh," Damon scoffed, wrinkling his nose in an exaggerated display of mock-disgust that Elena was fairly sure was meant to hide actual insecurity. She chose Damon, wholeheartedly, fully, irrevocably – but what she felt in her heart hardly seemed to register in his mind. As carefree as Damon often appeared to be, she sometimes caught him looking at her in a peculiar way. Like he was trying to memorize her, lock the feeling of being with her in some deep part of himself to view and treasure and explore later. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like all of this was but a brief and happy reprieve from the inevitable. And yet, the panic that she saw come off him in waves just minutes ago was unlike anything she'd ever observed from him before. This had nothing to do with Stefan. He was deflecting again. "Next you'll be telling me you want to go on the bunny diet and brood yourself a new set of forehead wrinkles."
"That's not at all the same thing!"
"Isn't it? You mean you're not working on your hero hair?"
"Oh, please," Elena tossed her hair flirtatiously, winking at her boyfriend. "Stefan's got nothing on me, and you know it."
"You got that right," he murmured, finally taking hold of her hand and bringing it to his lips. Elena was relieved when she saw some semblance of normality to his demeanor again. But a larger part of her worried.
Noticing that his mood seemed to be improving in proportion to their distance from the college, she determined that they would have a discussion as soon as they got home – about her after-school adventures, about what seemed to be terrifying him so; either way, it seemed it was absolutely time to put her one-time pass that she thankfully had the foresight to negotiate to use.
Damon's hug is inspired by the one he gives Jeremy in canon when he finally confesses about Bonnie's death. I think the Augustine Society spooks him enough that even he would genuinely be at a loss for words and respond instinctively.
So sorry that their real-real discussion has to take place next chapter! I wanted to really emphasize how weird and uncomfortable all this makes Damon feel.
Regarding the heartbeat – TVD vampires have heartbeats! "With a healthy supply of blood in my system, my body functions pretty normally."
One guess as to who Bonnie found in Whitmore Hall's creepy basement! :D
The one-time pass comes from the epilogue of Chaotic Good. Elena was a little annoyed that after everything that happened during that story, Damon still didn't believe that her feelings were real during the sire bond, so she asked that he give her a free pass to trust her judgment in a situation no matter how silly he thinks she's being. A bit of a carte blanche. She was also fully aware that she would be doing the Whitmore hero thing when she suggested it. :D
Reviews are highly appreciated, as the beautiful gestures of love that they so are!
Have a lovely weekend, everyone!