I wanted to save the final chapter for the anniversary of the tragedy.

The fever came fast, robbing Elena of her strength. From a healthy young woman to a curled up child, shaking and pale, the transformation couldn't have been any more stark. The sickness shows no sign of shifting, no hint of lifting to a more milder form, if anything, it's intensifying.

"Elena, it's your mother," Miranda presses a cloth gently to her daughter's feverish forehead. She has lain sick these past several days and is delirious with fever. Her body is wracked with spasms of pain and shivering.

"Damon, find him please, he can't be dead," her head thrashes from side to side as she reaches for something imaginary in the air.

"She doesn't know what she's doing," Miranda looks at the doctor desperately.

"Why don't you take a break, I'll stay with Miss Elena," the midwife, Esther, takes the rag and urges Miranda to get some rest.

"You don't understand, I believe in her dreadfully ill state - in her mind - she's in the sea again."

"Mrs. Gilbert?" Dr. Fell looks at her above his spectacles.

"When Damon and Elena met, they fell in love almost immediately, despite his reputation as a bit of a scoundrel. After their engagement - there was a trip to Europe to visit my husband's family in England," her voice wavers slightly, "Our voyage home was on Titanic," she laughs inappropriately as a vision appears in her mind.

"Grayson," she whispers in a raspy voice. The ocean is eerily still beneath her lifeboat. The occupants on the vessel are silent in horror at the sight before them, terrifying even at their distance and in the absence of light from the ship which flickers out.

Distant crackling fills the air, followed by sharp gasps of the women surrounding her as the stern is ripped from the bow and disappears into the sea.

"Miranda?" Esther helps her up and leads her to the door. "I promise I will get you if something happens. You will do no good to your daughter if you fall ill too."

The distraught woman nods and walks out, with Esther pushing the door closed behind her. Stepping over to the pitcher and basin, she pours some water to freshen the cloth and moves to Elena's side.

Pulling back the covers, Dr. Fell checks and instructs Esther that it's time to deliver Elena's baby. "You'll have to hold her legs and instruct her to push. I only hope your words can get through the delirium."

Esther goes to the door and calls for Elizabeth to help. After washing her hands, she lifts one leg while Liz lifts the other.

"I want Damon," Elena thrashes in bed, groaning at the throbbing burn that tears through her belly.

"Elena, sweetheart, you need to push," Esther presses on her protruding abdomen.

"I need him," she wails loudly, her mournful cries spill out into the nearby rooms.

"Honey, Damon isn't here," Elizabeth gently pets her cheek with the back of her fingers.

Where are you, Damon...? You must fight... don't let go... The water's so cold...

"You need to push," Elizabeth whispers, pressing the rag to her head to wipe away the beads of sweat. Setting it down, she goes back to Elena's leg, bends it and pushes it back, mimicking the way Esther is holding her other one.

"She's crowning," the doctor announces and looks up at the women. "Mrs. Mikaelson, as soon as you feel the next contraction, I need you get help her push."

She nods, ties Elena's leg to the side with a ripped piece of sheet then slides behind her, lifting her forward when her belly hardens again.

The water's so still... even the waves frozen in time. Feels like a tomb. One she's going to lie in... with him.

Damon...

"Head's out!"

Moments later the rest of the baby is delivered. Dr. Fell quickly suctions out the tiny boy's nose then mouth and hands him to Elizabeth to clean up.

An hour later, he moves his stethoscope over Elena's chest. There are pronounced crackles in the right and left lower lobes, her lips have a hint of blue. Every breath is a struggle; her phlegm-filled lungs are desperate for oxygen, but her body won't cooperate. A string of harsh coughs shake her pale and fragile form.

"Doctor, you must do something," Miranda pleads as she holds Elena's hand as if it's a lifeline.

Sighing, he looks at Esther and shakes his head back and forth.

"How long?" she mouths.

He takes her arm and leads her away from the bed so Miranda doesn't hear. "I don't know. The woman survived the icy waters of the Atlantic, but succumbs to the flu. It's tragic really," he puts his equipment in his bag.

"She's not dead yet, Dr. Fell," Esther spits out through gritted teeth. Glaring at him for a moment, she picks up the baby...

...To meet his father.

"Mr. Salvatore, you have a son," Esther places the boy in his arms.

"How is she?" Damon looks distraught even with his child's tiny fist gripping his finger.

"It's not good, Mr. Salvatore," Dr. Fell walks over and squeezes his shoulder. "If you're a praying man, I would do so. You may see her to say goodbye."

"No, no, no, no," he hands the baby back to Mrs. Mikaelson and runs to his wife's bedside.

"Oh, my love," Damon snags a chair, scoots it up close to Elena's bedside and sits down. Only his muffled sobs break the quiet of the room. He takes her hand again and brings her fingers to his lips in a sighing kiss as he stares at her deathly pale but still beautiful face.

"You can't leave, Elena, you can't..." Unable to continue, he pauses to wipe his tears, silently cursing at himself for losing his composure. "Don't make me say goodbye, please," he drops his eyes when his emotions threaten to overwhelm him.

"But if you must, I'll stay here with you and hold your hand until..."

Grabbing his handkerchief, he wipes his nose with his free hand. Never in his life has he known pain like this. It's deep and raw like his heart being pierced from every possible angle, each new stab releasing a piece of his soul as the blades twist in deeper.

He squeezes her hand a little harder in a vain effort to fortify himself as he leans in to whisper in her ear, "I love you."

At his touch, her dilated eyes meet his. Damon lowers his head in relief but when he looks back, they're closed.

"Elena," he repeats her name with more and more urgency. The seconds slide by and then she takes a breath while he holds his.

Through a haze, Elena hears Damon's anguished cry, latches onto it and uses it to pull herself back to him. She opens her eyes and tries to smile at the sight of him.

"Hey…" he emits a thankful sigh and reaches up to touch her flushed face.

Her eyelids flutter as she skitters the edge of consciousness.

"Elena!" Damon calls her back to him. She blinks and he watches as her pupils dilate and grow sluggish.

She gives him a slight nod but doesn't speak, it's getting darker.

She's finally where she belongs... floating in the cold depths of north Atlantic.

With him.

Reflexively she squeezes Damon's hand and does not feel it when it slips from his.

"No... no... Elena?" Damon whispers, shaking her shoulders as his features contort to reveal a visceral pain he's never known before. Unable to say anymore because his tears have now made it impossible, Damon buries his face to her shoulder, muffling his sobs against her soft skin.

A few months later:

Today is anniversary of the sinking and after attending church services, Damon and she share a silent walk, trying to lose themselves in the peace of the day. Sometimes though it is difficult to hide from a past that simply is incapable of being forgotten.

After she was plucked from the cold water, Elena was taken to the Carpathia where she was reunited with her mother. It was soon apparent that her father had not survived the tragedy. Upon their return to Pittsburgh, he and Elena married one year after the sinking, celebrating their union with a huge wedding. Her father's picture was placed at the altar and her uncle filled in to walk her down the aisle.

Sometimes Damon can't believe how lucky he is to have her. She was one of only *six people pulled from the water. As he pushes the stroller, he glances at his wife. Dr. Fell called her recovery a true miracle as he was certain she would not survive. Although she gave him many a sleepless night, her body finally began its lengthy journey towards recovery... Only recently did Dr. Fell finally declare her healthy.

Having escaped near certain death twice now, neither she nor Damon take anything for granted and live each day to its fullest. They know all too well that everything can be stripped away in the blink of an eye.

"It's a beautiful day," Elena mentions, sucking in a breath of fresh air. It's one of those baby-blue skies where the clouds are as puffs of radiant joy. She watches them eddy, pure reflected rays dapple and swirl in the sky, until all that remains is that same perfect baby-blue.

"Everyday is beautiful with you, my love," Damon winks at her.

Her cheeks flush, his crooked smile always elicits the same reaction. Now as she walks down the sidewalk with Damon, she gazes down at four month-old little Grayson and smiles. When she found out she was pregnant, she told her husband that she wanted to name him after her father if it was a boy.

A loud yawn from their little fella causes them both to chuckle, and Damon gently kisses her temple. "I think we should head home, it's nap time."

"I am quite tired," she smiles at him.

"I meant our son,"

He then lowers his head to her ear and whispers, "I was hoping for some alone time with his mother."

"It's the middle of the afternoon," she turns her head, eyeing him curiously. Damon lifts the baby out, hands him to Elena then lifts the stroller onto their outside wrap around porch. Once inside, they go up the winding staircase and lay the baby in his bassinette and cover him to keep him warm from the spring chill.

Turning to her husband, she takes his hands and pulls him to the window seat, urging him to sit then snuggles in next to him.

Damon wraps his arm around her, pulls her close and presses his lips to her temple. He's never been shy about public displays of affection with her, even with the prying eyes of their staff or out in public.

Elena shifts and places her hands on his face, kissing him softly on the lips. "I love you, Damon," she notices the distant look on his face.

"What is it?"

"I miss being with you," he replies softly, his eyes rising to hers.

"That's is easy to remedy," she tells him as she gently runs her fingers through his dark hair. "We can practice giving our boy a little sister," she says in a whisper, blushing as if someone may over hear.

Damon's eyes widen as he wraps his arms tighter around her. "Already?"

"How many lives does a cat have, Damon? We have to make the most of what we're given," she knows that all too well and her eyes go distant for a moment. Rising from their perch on the window seat, she leans forward to kiss his cheek. "I'll change Grayson and put him in his crib then I'll be back."

A beautiful smile forms on his face, and he nods. "I will be waiting for you, Mrs. Salvatore."

When she returns, Damon is still in the window seat, his face laying against the glass. Hearing the door close, he reaches out for her, his hands finding her waist, his fingers touching the mauve satin of her dress. His palms slide around her, pulling her in tight against him. He can feel the firmness of her corset under the fabric, and his mind races with images of her feminine curves and the creamy swells of her bosom pushing up above it.

She has on far too many layers for his taste but sooner rather than later, he has her breasts bared to his gaze. His eyes flick up to her face to find her watching him. He then opens his mouth over hers, her lips part and he slips his tongue inside hers to have a taste.

Damon groans and plunges one hand into her hair, the jeweled combs holding it in place fall out, allowing her hair to tumble down her back, a thick, dark curtain of brown. He pulls her closer, and then lifts and slides her onto his lap.

He blazes a trail of kisses over her cheeks, her jawline, her chin, then down her throat and across her collarbone. Elena's fingers tangle in his hair as he takes one nipple into his mouth and begins sucking on it rhythmically. She moans and grips her hands onto his shoulders.

One of Damon's leaves her waist and slides down to find purchase on her hip through the layers of satin and petticoats. He pulls her body in tighter against him, against the swell of his crotch, seeking the delicious friction. They break apart to gasp for air and his mouth moves down to the curve of her throat, to the elegant shape of her shoulder. Elena tips her head to the side, offering herself up to her husband.

Damon reaches the hollow at the base of her neck, flicking it with his tongue. The hand on her hip falls to the hem of her dress, pushing aside the layers of satin and cotton. Elena shifts, and he groans as his hardness presses up and into her. His tongue darts out to taste the olive skin just above the swell of her breast. Her hand slides into his hair and fists tightly as he pushes himself between her legs. He feels hot and stretched taut within her body. She's the gravity holding him to the earth.

When his hand reaches the edge of her stocking, and the garter that holds it in place, when his fingertips brush the warm, smooth skin of the inside of her thigh, he focuses on taking them both over the edge and into free fall. He teases her clitoris with his fingers and thrusts his hips upwards. Immediately, Elena begins to meet him thrust for thrust and it isn't long before they both give into the oblivion that beckons.

Elena digs her nails into his shoulders as her body is launched into the deepest recesses of passion. Intent on watching her orgasm, Damon tries to hold back but when he feels her climax rippling around him, there is no resisting the pull of release. Her name escapes him through clenched teeth as he pours himself inside her.

Laying in bed naked after another round, Damon murmurs against her hair. "Satisfied, Mrs. Salvatore?"

"It was most pleasing," she teases in a proper tone while drawing circles on the bare skin of his chest with her fingernail.

"Just pleasing?" he arches an eyebrow.

"It was extremely pleasurable. Are you happy now?" she gives him a cheeky smile.

Damon pulls her in tighter against him, "Yes, I am happy now. You have no idea how much."

Elena sighs and scoots in closer. "Oh, I think I do..."

"We should get dressed for supper," he says after several minutes of comfortable silence.

"Supper?"

"Don't you want to eat?" he asks, pulling back enough to look down into her face. The moonlight shining in through their window makes the gold glints in her dark eyes and casts her bare skin in an ethereal light. Right now the last thing in the world Damon wants to do is put his clothes back on.

"I don't want to move till we hear Grayson," she murmurs, sighing contentedly.

Damon grins before ducking his head to kiss her gently.

"Well, then, as long as you're satisfied, Mrs. Salvatore."

Elena raises up on her elbow and palms his cheek with her other hand. "I'm much more than satisfied, Damon. With you, I'm complete in every way possible."

He stares at her beautiful face lit up with her love for him and he's overwhelmed by all he feels for her. "I am too, Elena. I am, too."

First hand account of Jack Thayer. He was one of the very few plucked from the water.

For while 710 people, mainly female passengers, of the 2,224 aboard survived, almost all of them had escaped in lifeboats launched before the ship went down. Only about 40 who were thrown or jumped into the sea were rescued - 17 year old American Jack Thayer was among them.

"About one in every 36 who went down with the ship was saved, and I happened to be one," he noted.

Mr. Thayer and his wife Marian boarded with the Titanic with their son and a maid at Southampton on April 10. The vessel sped across the Atlantic at more than 20 knots on its maiden voyage, intent on a record time for the journey, despite reports of ice. "The weather was fair and clear, the ship palatial, the food delicious," he observed of life in first class.

After dinner on April 14, he walked the decks, recalling a scene so placid it was beguiling. "It was a brilliant, starry night," he wrote. "There was no moon and I have never seen the stars shine brighter; they appeared to stand right out of the sky, sparkling like cut diamonds.

"I have spent much time on the ocean, yet I have never seen the sea smoother than it was that night; it was like a mill-pond, and just as innocent looking, as the great ship quietly rippled through it." He had said goodnight to his parents at about 11.45pm when he felt the ship sway slightly, veering to port "as though she had been gently pushed", before the engines suddenly stopped.

He and his father went upstairs to explore. The passengers remained calm, even when to their disbelief, one of the "unsinkable" ship's designers - with whom the Thayers had spent several evenings - told them he believed it would not survive an hour. They went back to fetch Mrs. Thayer and her maid, then all returned to deck, wearing life preservers of thick cork vests.

The ship's band, also in life preservers, played on as the vessel's officers remained at their posts. They fired distress rockets that illuminated the night sky, but they were ignored by at least one nearby vessel, the SS California, which passed close enough at 12.30 am for its lights to be seen by many on the Titanic.

Shortly after 12.45 am, stewards passed the word "All women to the port side" as lifeboats were lowered into the water, with people scrambling for spaces. The Thayers were separated in the throng - and while Jack's mother eventually made it to safety, he never saw his father again.

By 2.15 am, the sinking liner was tilting sharply out of the water. "We were a mass of hopeless, dazed humanity, attempting, as the Almighty and Nature made us, to keep our final breath until the last possible moment," he noted of the mood.

The vessel then reared up and, amid a rumbling roar and muffled explosions, he decided to jump. "I was pushed out and then sucked down. The cold was terrific. The shock of the water took the breath out of my lungs.

"Down and down, I went, spinning in all directions. Swimming as hard as I could in the direction which I thought to be away from the ship, I finally came up with my lungs bursting, but not having taken any water."

Falling debris dragged him under water again and when he fought back to the surface, he came up against an overturned lifeboat. Too exhausted to haul himself, the men already clinging to it pulled him up. To his shock, the other lifeboats, some of which had plenty of space, never returned to try and rescue those - very possibly including his father - calling for help in the water because of fears they too would be swamped.

After latching on to a life boat, Thayer watched as the ship's passengers battled against the inevitable. 'We could see groups of the almost 1,500 people still aboard, clinging in clusters of bunches like swarming bees; only to fall in masses, pairs or singly, as the great after-part of the ship, 250 feet of it, rose into the sky, till it reached a 65 or 70-degree angle.'

He describes being haunted by the horrifying cries of the people who slowly died around him - and his own survival. "It sounded like locusts on a midsummer night in the woods. This terrible cry lasted for 20 or 30 minutes, gradually dying away, as one after another could no longer withstand the cold and exposure."

"The most heartrending part of the whole tragedy was the failure, right after the Titanic sank, of those boats which were only partially loaded, to pick up the poor souls in the water. There they were, only four or five hundred yards away, listening to the cries, and still they did not come back. If they had turned back several hundred more would have been saved."

The Carpathia, a Cunard liner, had received wireless messages and was by now heading towards them. Thayer was on the last lifeboat to be rescued at about 7.30am, and at the top of the ladder, he saw his mother. Her joy was rapidly tempered. "Where's daddy?" she asked him.

"I don't know, mother," he replied.

The journey of the next three days was one of crushing sorrow. "The trip back to New York was one big heartache and misery," he wrote. It seemed as if there were none but widows left, each one mourning the loss of her husband. It was a most pitiful sight."

Mr. Thayer later married the heiress to another railway fortune and pursued his own career in business. But in 1944, his beloved son, a US air force pilot, was killed over the Pacific and his mother also died. Just a year later, in a tragic postscript to his tale of survival loss, Jack Thayer committed suicide, aged 50 - the same age as his father when he went down with the RMS Titanic.

Titanic sinks at 2:20 am on Monday - April 15, 1912.

In the early morning hours of September 1, 1985, the first glimpse of Titanic in 73 years appears on Dr. Robert Ballard's screen. Exploring 12,000 feet below the ocean's surface, the unmanned submersible 'Argo' relays the image of one of the Titanic's boilers embedded within the sandy surface of the ocean's floor. The team on the 'Knorr' is ecstatic about the discovery, although the realization that they are floating atop the graves of nearly 1,500 individuals lends a somber tone to their celebration.

*In the movie, old Rose says only 6 people were pulled from the water. I tried searching for the number, I got as few as 5 and as many as 14 so I don't know the correct answer.

**The Damon and Elena parts took place on the RMS Olympic - Titanic's sister ship - on her maiden voyage in June of 1911. He was not on Titanic with her when it sank. In her delirium, she relived it all over again, conflating the two voyages. Thomas Andrews was also a passenger on Olympic's maiden voyage which explains his presence talking to Damon in chapter 2.

Tremendous thanks to all of you for going on this voyage with us. I just had an idea in my mind but I didn't know how to do a Titanic story and save Damon too so this is what Eva and I came up with. Thank you Eva.

'The Night We Met' is also during this era. It's a different story, and a different ship but it was very real too. Nearly 1200 people perished in the tragedy that's depicted in that story.

Have a terrific day number ? of quarantine. I - for one - am ready for it to be over! We'll see you next with WTBHTB.