She Dreams
Disclaimer: TVD is not mine.
A/N: Written in present-tense as a writing exercise to see if it flows better. At some points, I think it works. In others, it fails utterly.
Summary: She dreams about him and she can only wonder why.
SPOILERS for 2.08 "Rose" where Damon tells her and then compels her to forget.
She dreams about him.
When she wakes up, she doesn't remember her dreams. She is only aware of the way her heart is pounding, the way her breath seems to catch in her throat…and the tears streaming down her face.
When she wakes up, her heart is breaking.
She doesn't understand what is going on. She doesn't understand why she can't seem to remember anything more than sensations.
Sometimes, she thinks she remembers soft lips on her skin. She would raise her hand to touch her forehead, rush to the mirror to see if there is somehow a mark—a memory—of a kiss that never was. But she sees nothing more than her tear-stained face and broken eyes.
Sometimes she thinks she remembers his voice. It's ringing in her ears when she wakes up, like echoes from the distance. She would lay absolutely still in her bed, willing the voice to come back. Except the memory just grows more distant until she cannot decide whether she had ever heard it at all.
Sometimes, she thinks she remembers being loved. She feels shattered and whole at the same time, as if her world had been turned upside down…but finally made sense. She would shake her head to clear the thoughts, to fight the cobwebs of the dream off. Her would hand creep over her heart, still beating erratically, as if trying to tattoo the truth into her rib cage.
Except she never understands what her heart is trying to tell her.
Sometimes, she thinks she saw him cry. Every night she wishes that she had reached over and traced that tear, felt it burn through her skin. Instead, she would feel her own tears burning down her face. And she would wonder why they are both crying.
She cannot bear to look at him in the daytime.
He would flash her a sardonic smile and mock her with his brilliant eyes. It makes her angry because she remembers—she thinks she remembers—he once smiled softly at her and stole her soul with those eyes.
It feels like the world is playing a trick on her, showing her two sides of this one man.
She looks at him now, half sprawled on her bed, propped up by her pillows, one leg dangling over the side. His black shirt is stretched tautly over his chest. He has placed her teddy bear innocuously on his chest, examining it as if he doesn't have a care in the world.
He's here to keep her from running off and sacrificing herself to Elijah once again. She is supposed to be in school. Instead, she is here, hiding with him, pretending to be sick for Aunt Jenna's sake. Of course, Aunt Jenna doesn't know he is here.
Much less that he looks far too comfortable on her bed.
"What did you do to me?" she whispers softly from one side of her room.
He gives her a mockingly innocent look. "Excuse me?" he drawls, tossing her teddy bear aside with an effortless flick of his wrist.
She stands straighter. "I said, what did you do to me?" she demands, her voice louder and stronger than before.
He cocks his head to the side and looks at her with a mildly disinterested expression. "You mean, besides saving you from your self-sacrificing tendencies?"
She looks at him steadily, measuring him. She thinks she knows him. She knows when he is trying to avoid a discussion. She can see it in the way his eyes are a little more shuttered, the brilliant blue dulled to a darker hue. She can see it in the tense set of his jaw, despite the way he is still laying carelessly on her bed.
She walks over towards him, her fingers reaching for the pendant around her neck. "How did I get this back?"
He looks away, then gives her the full blast of his blue eyes. She almost backs down, but doesn't.
"I gave it to you," he says softly. "Or don't you remember?" There is a challenge in his voice. He stands up to face her to even the ground of their battle of wills.
He is close. Close enough that she is afraid he can see right into her. She looks away. She thinks she remembers the night he came and gave the necklace back to her. She remembers him standing here in her room.
She remembers stopping in her tracks, remembers feeling devoured by his eyes before he flashes her one of his crooked grins. She remembers the fear-anticipation she felt when he started towards her, mind racing—not knowing whether she wanted him closer or not.
"You said you had something to tell me," she murmurs, somewhat in a daze. It is almost as if she were standing right back in her room with him that night. It seems so clear. So real.
His eyes are clouded, his brow quirks up. "No, I didn't."
She glares at him. "Yes, you did." She is angry. She feels betrayed. "Did you compel me?"
"And destroy your trust?" he intones with a slightly ironic twist of his lips.
Her lips curve with equal disdain. "It wouldn't be the first time."
"That hurts." He deadpans. His eyes are completely dulled, his face devoid of expression.
She crosses her arms in front of her. "The truth sometimes does. Now answer my question. Did. You. Compel. Me?"
He drops back on her bed with ease and looks up at her, almost amused. "What do you think?"
She looks away, confused. Images blur through her mind, memories and dreams mixing together until she isn't quite sure what is real anymore. But she looks at him and remembers with full certainty exactly what he is capable of. Her lips curl bitterly around the words, "I think you could. And you would. And you did."
His jaw hardens, his eyes grow dangerous. "I didn't."
She meets his hard stare with one of her own. "What was it that I had to forget, Damon?"
He stands up and brushes past her. "I didn't compel you."
"You're lying."
"What could I possibly have to say to you that I would want you to forget?"
She doesn't know. She doesn't want to know. Her lips quiver. "I have dreams," she whispers.
He gives her a look. "Dreams? This is about dreams?"
She looks away, feeling defeated. "Sometimes I think I remember…"
"Remember what?"
"I don't know!"
He is looking at her with an odd expression. It is almost a mix of panic and encouragement. Finally, he shakes his head and sighs. "They're just dreams, Elena. Nothing more." He gives her a look that is so sad it steals the breath right out of her. "It can't be anything more." With that, he is gone, out her window, the curtains fluttering behind him.
She knows this scene far too well. Every night, in her dreams, she's left standing alone. Every night in her dreams she turns around and he is gone. She remembers the night he slips out of her room, leaving her standing alone, the curtains fluttering behind him. She remembers this feeling-of being lost-of having something infinitely precious stolen right from under her nose.
She feels the tears running down her face; she feels the familiar breaking of her heart. She cannot breathe, as if he has taken all the air out of the room with him. Her knees are weak and she crumples onto her bed.
She dreams about him and it breaks her heart. She wishes she knew why.
END.