I just couldn't stay away! Like the summary says this little one-shot is set right at the end of Season 2, this scene cropped up when I read that next season there will be a Masquerade Ball and I've been toying with the idea ever since. To place this scene into context with what I have in mind: Damon ended up working for Katherine in order to gain some measure of her trust because he believes this is the only way to kill her. He doesn't tell anyone about his plan and Elena is furious and hurt when she believes he's chosen to go back to Katherine. Stefan and Elena's relationship has been strained since Founders Day.

His eyes are ice that she doesn't think she can thaw, his face so indifferent that she doubts even the smallest smile could arise; his heart so shattered that she wonders if the pieces aren't simply too jagged to even grasp. It twits something within her. Suffocates. This is his mask and god does he wear it well.

She'd felt his eyes on her first. Felt the familiar tingle as it spread all over her body like an electric current in waves. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and her pulse danced erratically as she fought the urge to shudder. It was always this way, her body experiencing total disconnect with her mind and lately – lately she couldn't even bring herself to care.

There was something wildly enigmatic about losing her identity; about wearing an ornately decorated mask with an equally elaborate dress as she moved slowly through the crowd. She couldn't see him but she knew he was there. There with the hundreds of people crowding the grandiose ballroom; names without faces, faces without names and all the while she searched. Her eyes wandered over countless figures looking for his expensive taste. Looking for the elegant lines of the designer suit she was sure he would be wearing.

No, this one's too short; brown hair not black; not the right jaw line…

She slipped past them all, faltering only when a too drunk couple had swayed dangerously on their feet blundering into her path clumsily. No, this wouldn't do. She needed to be higher and she strode with purpose to the dizzyingly spectacular marble staircase, ascending it unnoticed by the abundant crowd.

She was alone as she wandered to the balcony favouring the left tier over the right, there was something exciting about it; something that felt distinctly like she was breaking the rules and for once in her life she embraced it. She stepped through the shadows the noise of her heels treading white marble the only sound disturbing the peace. It was magnificent as she leaned over the banister taking in her surroundings; the high ceiling embellished with golden details, the seemingly endless expanse of marble flooring cutting intricate designs across the floor, the blood red drapery framing the grand Georgian style windows… it took her breath away she was losing herself in the extravagance of it all.

It was as her eyes surveyed the dancing figures beneath her that they finally landed upon him. She froze instantly and he turned slowly his gaze immediately travelling upwards until they locked with hers. It was electric. It was dangerous, inclement and it made her feel alive.

He excused himself from his present company easily, his feet already carrying him away and before she knew it he was emerging from the shadows beside her; that familiar swagger as he walked. God she'd missed him.

Her mask was golden. Golden with black beading and feathering, her lips tinted a deep and lustrous shade of red but there was no mistaking her. No, not this time. His was simple; black and Elena wondered why he'd even bothered because no one could mistake those eyes.

She wanted to say thank you. She wanted to bridge the chasm that she'd placed between them since Katherine had returned. Wanted to tell him that had he just told her what he was planning she'd have done anything to help him. Anything - but it was too late now. They'd both done things, both said things to hurt the other and she feared that the damage was too great. The words wouldn't come. They never did. She didn't know what to do and it drove her crazy.

It had only been yesterday that she'd learned of his true intentions, his intentions to kill Katherine. It had only been yesterday that she'd realised that all of it had been a front. Everything. He'd never gone back to her; he never wanted to – he fucking hated her. She'd never felt more ashamed than she had when he'd approached her at the boarding house, unable to stand her disapproval any longer. He'd thought she trusted him, he'd let her in and she'd blown it. Big time. Her desperate tears hadn't been enough, her heartfelt apologies either. In fact none of it was because the facts remained the same; at the end of the day she belonged to his brother. They both did. Her and Katherine and it killed him inside.

"You know she's probably here; won't this blow your cover?" Elena whispered quietly turning her face to once again study the ball beneath them. She couldn't bear to look at him, to see the mirth in his eyes and she knew that this time. This time he really meant it.

"Been there, done that…" he replied nonchalantly and she snapped her head back her eyes going wide in alarm.

"She knows you've been playing her?" she bit out tersely thoroughly expecting Katherine to pop out of the shadows at any moment with a stake for the both of them.

"Apparently she overheard our little… conversation, last night" he said, his eyes trailing the expanse of tantalizing skin that was on display.

"…And she just let you leave? Just like that?" she probed dubiously. He inclined his head and laughed the sound bitter and short making her want to shiver with its coldness.

"No. She'll have her revenge, you can count on that" he answered darkly, his eyes flashing something dangerous and foreboding and Elena slumped slightly, leaning on the banister for support.

"I am sorry you know…" she began tentatively after a moments pause only to be cut off by his harsh response.

"Save it. You mistake me for someone who cares" he snapped quickly not missing the way she visibly flinched at his words. She deserved that, she knew she did and that's why she let his comment slide, granting him that small victory but his words still cut her.

It wasn't true, he did care; he wouldn't be standing there if he didn't but he wasn't ready to admit that, he wanted to see her squirm. Just for a while longer; didn't want her to know that at this point he was fairly sure that he would never be able to just walk away. Even if she wanted him to, he would never leave her. Not really.

He was feeling uncharacteristically nostalgic tonight; something to do with the ball, the costumes, the atmosphere vibrating with excitement and life. It reminded him of his time spent in Europe, wooing ladies of the upper class with his easy charms and god worthy looks; playing on their hidden desires – the ones that went against their carefully constructed projections of purity before sucking them dry.

She was radiant, stunning. He wanted to break her; consumer her. He wanted her to feel just a fraction of the things she caused within him. It was maddening yet he just couldn't help himself from coming back for more.

She sighed sadly, looked down at the floor where the soft fabric of her dress met the marble and wished that she could take her actions back - it wasn't for the first time either. She steeled herself slightly; she was stronger than this.

"Please Damon…" she began and he quirked his head to the side studying her.

"Please what?" he asked, taking a step closer entering her personal space one slow inch at a time.

"I need to make this right" she whispered, finally finding the courage to raise her eyes to his.

"Make what right?" he probed a ghost of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. She bit down on her frustration, of course he wasn't going to make this easy, when did he ever make things easy for her?. Elena did not relish the prospect of grovelling but if that's what it took…

"Us" she cried her voice strangled and cracking with too much emotion. The smirk died before it had even flourished and Elena could just tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes that he was frowning, even though his mask concealed it. She was struck with the sudden realisation that in a way this was easier. This way she didn't have to see the betrayal written across his features, didn't have to see the turmoil she caused him - not on his face at least but Elena was fairly sure that she still saw it swimming within the cerulean depth of his eyes.

"There is no us Elena. You've made that abundantly clear; and on more than one occasion" he spoke calmly and was that… bitterness she detected in his tone?

"What if I was wrong? What if I didn't mean it?" she continued defiantly closing the small space between them, her tone edgy; just a little desperate but she had to get through to him. She had to. He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. You can't change the past. You and I both know that" he placated; his tone was too tender for her liking, full of resentment and longing and it stuck her to the core causing the first bout of moisture to well in her eyes.

"But what if I change the future?" she tried, her voice so strangled by the lump in her throat that it made her hoarse the sound foreign to her own ears. He scoffed and it stung like a physical slap; caused the first teardrop to fall from her lashes leaving a trail behind her mask before reappearing on her lower cheek and finally falling to the ground. He heard it hit; like the fresh sound of raindrops and it burned like a bullet to the chest but he'd never say that. She'd never know.

"You don't want me to stay but you can't let me leave. You say you don't want me but I'm not allowed someone else. You say you love Stefan yet you're standing with me. What will it be Elena? Because I am done playing games" he hissed his face now just a fraction of an inch from hers and he saw the way she shivered as his cool breath hit her face.

"I…" she whispered, the words failing to reach her lips because all she could see was Damon. All she could feel was Damon. His lips, level with her eyes…

"You what, Elena?" he probed his voice falling an octave lower and the familiar feel of goosebumps erupted all over her skin. She trembled and somehow they were moving; moving towards the elaborate pillar that helped form the archway of the balcony and she gasped softly as her back hit the cool surface. There was no-where left to hide, his hands pinned her in resting upon the wall either side of her face as his eyes delved into her very soul.

"Damon" she whispered completely aware that nothing more eloquent would fall from her lips in this moment. Her eyes were heavy lidded and her mind sluggish as she struggled to find reasons for why this was wrong but she couldn't because everything was right.

"Elena" he mimicked and it was his voice that made the decision for her. It was the fact that her name literally sounded like a dying mans prayer on his lips. It was the fact that she'd never heard that much emotion conveyed in one word from anyone. The fact that her heart had stopped for several beats in her chest and when it finally resumed it's natural rhythm, thundering hard and overcompensating for her brains momentary lapse of instruction, she'd found that her lips were on his.

Their hands moved at once, grabbing at each other roughly; any place they could find. Their tongues battled for dominance and she moaned into his mouth. He'd nip her lip and she'd kiss him harder, press herself closer as if she were trying to fuse her body to his and nothing, nothing had ever felt more exquisite than this. It was angry. It was passionate. It was bruising. It was everything Elena had ever felt towards him and more. This kiss was for her. It had always been for her.

He bunched up her skirt, the white silk slipping up her legs easily and the moment he lifted her, her legs wrapped around his waist. She groaned at the contact, clumsy hands fumbling before ripping his mask from his face. She came up for air her chest heaving, lips swollen and smudged red and he returned the gesture her mask landing right beside his, discarded on the floor both figuratively and literally speaking.

Dishevelled tendrils of chocolate brown framed her face, her cheeks flushing pink and he was sure in that moment that he'd never seen anything more enticing than her. She was hypnotic. Their frenzied movements stilled, his hand moving of it's own accord to travel it's well acquainted path down her chin; ghosting her lips as she held her breath in anticipation. The next kiss was tender; slow. So full of promise and longing that it broke her heart. The surge of emotion; it was too much and she grabbed his face intent on showing him just how deeply she cared, loved into that one kiss. As if concentrating on that feeling would somehow telepathically let him know, let him know the words that she just wasn't ready to say out loud. Not just yet.

And then their momentary escape was shattered with one cruelly delivered sentence.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

Katherine.