28

"Feel like I'm trying to breathe underwater, trying to climb but I keep falling farther. Will you take my hand? Feels so far away, I want to see your face. Are you even there? Can you show me? Can you make me believe? I need to know." – Kris Allen.

A wave of nausea hit him full force and his heart stopped. His neck slanted then just as quickly returned to place. He swallowed, hard. But the lump refused to be forced down. It was choking him. "You're sorry for what?" the question barely made it out.

"I was too late." She revealed.

"Too late?" he choked.

She only nodded.

He stepped away, afraid he would burn under the influence of his thoughts. "But you- you had a plan." Anger now clouded him. He stepped towards her again and grabbed her.

She let out a yelp of pain then hissed as his grip on each of her arms tightened until they could go no more.

"You're hurting me."

"You told me you had a plan."

"I did!" she exclaimed, trying her best to wiggle free but it only seemed to put her in more pain. So, she gave up. "But she wound him up, she played with him, she pissed him off, so he had her killed quicker."

His eyes lifted. Emotion shining bright as he refused once again to look at her. "Klaus?"

She nodded.

He let go and slipped around her. Knowing what he was about to do, her hand shot out to snag his wrist. "You can't. He's dead."

He frowned. The wild, excruciating pain suffocated him, he couldn't breathe, couldn't process. Was this really happening?

"Elijah." She explained.

"And Frank?"

"The same,"

Damon nodded, pursed his lips and did an erratic shake of his head, hoping it would rid of the gut wrenching pain in his head, his heart, then turned. "I have to see her."

She stopped him again, whirled him around on the spot to face her. "You can't. We have to go." Panic had etched into her voice.

He frowned again, finding his senses hazed over by a pit of grief. "Go? Go where?" he asked with outrage.

"We just have to go." She emphasized with a tug at his arm. He remained on the spot. "Damon,"

She was scared. Why, he had to wonder.

It seemed he couldn't accept what she was telling him. He needed to see it for himself. He had to see her. One last time, he had to.

He turned to move again, ignoring her protests. She soon caught up, her boots colliding noisily with the ground. Her hands, fingers spread, pushed against his shoulders once she stood in front of him again and he halted.

"Damon, please. We have to go." He watched her scan their surroundings then turn back to him, her eyes desperate. "It's not safe here."

"Not safe? Frank is dead, Klaus is dead. You just told me that."

"You think Frank wouldn't have some insurance? He planned everything down to a tee, Damon. We don't know that someone isn't coming here right now," she whipped her head around again. "If they aren't already,"

Damon scoffed in disgust and attempted a move.

"There's nothing in there anymore for you, Damon." Her fingers closed over the shoulders of his shirt. Her black eyes overran with emotion. "She's gone. You won't find her; it's just a body now."

The words knocked him breathless, mostly because it was the truth. What he was looking for, what he hoped to find, wasn't there. She wasn't there. She was gone. For the rest of his life, she'd be gone. He wouldn't get to touch her, see her laugh. She was just gone. Everything… was gone.

The idea latched onto his neck, and squeezed. He stepped back. Felt the want in his legs to give away.

Katherine reached out, grabbed him by his shirt to steady him. "We have to go."

She tugged him along towards the parked jeep Damon hadn't noticed when he arrived. She pulled open the door and persuaded him inside. Seconds later, she climbed into the driver's seat, slammed the door and started the engine.

Damon sat, barely aware or alert. He felt blank, he felt numb. Realization had shaken him to his very core, plunged him into a deep pit of nothing and he saw no way of climbing out. Absently he twisted his neck to look at the woman who so much resembled the one who owned his heart, and who was now dead.

How could it be? That only hours ago he had seen her, touched her with desperation whilst he held the knowledge that she was leaving. Now, now… she was just gone. Gone. How? How could everything she was, disappear? Everything he thought they would be. A future he'd wanted, the love he'd had for her. It was all just a memory, a 'could have been'. She was just a memory now. All because he'd failed her.

A single tear fell, ran the length of his cheek. He was drowning in despair, and held no idea on how to find a release, how to breathe anymore. How could he do this? Live, without her? He didn't know. He barely recalled what he was before she came along. He was nothing. He felt nothing. And now, he was back there.

He couldn't face that. Not after her, not after what they'd shared.

It was too cruel a fate to live without her. For almost a year, she'd been the centre of his universe. Now, that space was empty. Everything… was empty.

"I want to know what happened." He asked suddenly.

Katherine dashed him a sideways glance and shifted both hands further up the wheel.

"I wasn't there."

"Then where were you exactly?" he snapped.

"I had orders to stay outside." She simply returned.

"Orders?" she winced at the rise in his voice. He was angry, and looking for someone to blame. "You stood outside there, while he killed her. You did nothing!"

Her cool composure remained and it made him even angrier.

"Did she cry? Did she scream? Did she beg for help?" his voice tightened but continued to leave his mouth in a shout. "Did she call for you? Did she expect you to save her? And you stood outside and did nothing!"

"Stop it!"

Silence was earned. All he did was glare at her, anger pumping through his body. She shifted her hands again, allowing the tension in her knuckles a rest.

"You think it was easy?" she shot him a look then refocused on the road ahead. "It wasn't. It was hard." Her voice broke. Making a quick, forced recovery, she took a breath and wet her lips.

"She didn't cry," she said. "She didn't call for help. She was strong, stronger than- she wasn't scared. Not even a little bit."

He wasn't certain if it was the truth or just an assurance, a lie that would make it easier to deal with. If she had been afraid, if she'd screamed for him, it would tear him apart. Obviously Katherine knew that.

"How- how did he..." his eyes dropped to his lap.

"Shot,"

"Where?"

"Damon, I don't think you-

"Where?" He demanded harsher than before and his head snapped up.

"The head,"

"She didn't suffer," it had the texture of a question but it wasn't one.

"No, she didn't suffer."

They fell into silence and remained that way until the sky completely darkened and the amount of roads they'd travelled on were too many to count.

Damon stared absently out the window, not caring where they were, or where they were going. He hadn't even asked he realised. Nor did he have any means to. He closed his eyes, felt a small relief to the throbbing in his head before slowly falling to sleep.

"Damon," a hand on his bare shoulder shook him partially awake. "Damon,"

He groaned, reluctant and petulant. The hand shook him harder, forced him to roll over and open his gritty eyes.

There Elena sat, cross-legged and impatient on top of the rumpled sheets of his bed. Beautiful, was all he could think.

He couldn't stop the smirk, then rebuffed with a fake scoff before turning back over. "You're still here? Don't you take a hint?"

She chuckled and he relished in the angelic tinkle of it. He felt the bed move multiple times, and a shot of fear ran through him. She wouldn't just leave would she?

Turning his head, he discovered to his relief she'd crawled her way up to him. Hovering above him with a smile that showed her perfect white teeth while her chocolate hair curtained down, as if creating some sort of safe haven for only them, the sight of her made him quiver inside. "We both know if I even made an attempt to leave, you'd try to stop me."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked.

She shrugged her one shoulder then leant down to place a soft kiss to his lips. "Do you want it to be?"

His hands came up to hold her face. "Mm-hmm."

He moved to take her lips again but she reared back. "Alright,"

She clambered off the bed, the shirt of his rising up to reveal the clean underwear she'd obviously slipped on after her morning shower. It made him want to groan. He shifted up onto his elbows, watching her with interest.

She grabbed her light blue jeans from the chair to the side of the bed, tugged them on with her back still to him. Picking up her top once she let his shirt crumple to the floor, she shrugged into it. Then he moved, let the sheet fall from his naked body and hooked an arm around her waist and with hardly any effort, pulled her back to him.

She squealed at the surprise and continued to laugh as he shifted her body under his. Her lips were parted, pulling in shallow breaths. Her eyes wide, hungry and happy, her cheeks flushed.

"I win." She said, breathless. He cocked an eyebrow, reached up with his fingers to push the stray hairs from her face then let them settle on her cheek.

He captured her lips, in the sweet and alluring way that made her sigh with content. His tongue ran along hers, earning him a soft moan, his hand that wasn't trapped underneath her shoulders travelled down over her breast, settled on the gap between her jeans and top. It slivered up, mixing with the flesh of her stomach while successfully pushing up her top. Aiding him, she leant up and allowed his arm free along with the ability to pull her top off. Her legs parted for him to nestle between.

His lips went to her throat, providing it with the licks and bites he knew riled her up. Her legs tightened on either side of his hips and her fingers tug into his back.

Sliding down her body, his hand worked on undoing her jeans while his tongue ran a line between her breasts. She gasped.

"Don't leave." He suddenly murmured against her silken flesh.

Distracted and obviously forgotten anything prior, she peered down at him. "What?"

He lifted his head, caught her gaze then climbed back up her body. "Don't leave." He said more clearly this time.

She reached up, ran her fingers through his hair. "I won't."

He woke, disorientated. Then it hit him; the present, the reality. It choked him, sent a dagger to his heart. The worst thing he could've done was fall asleep, especially with memories like that one creeping into his subconscious to pain him even further than he already was.

A sigh tumbled from him. "I need a drink."

"We'll get one as soon as we stop."

He turned and found the time shining on the dashboard digital clock to be 8:48pm. Where had the time gone?

His head lolled back and his eyes closed again. "I was thinking more along the lines of ten."

"Whatever you want." She murmured.

He reopened his eyes and craned his neck to look over at her, though it discomforted him to do so. He noticed her eyes continued to dart up to check the rear-view mirror on more than several occasions. Had she been doing that for entire journey? He could ask what it was she was looking for, but he doubted he'd get any honesty. There were a lot of things he could ask, but it seemed he didn't have the energy.

It pained him, yet he still looked at her. His eyes searching the side of her face, feeding his brains illusion that it was Elena, not Katherine, that she had accepted his offer to take her away. She wasn't dead, she was here, and they were driving to a place where they could be together.

Believing it, because he so desperately wanted to, he reached out, tucked her soft, silken curls behind her ear and let the pads of his fingers run along her cheek.

Her eyes instinctively shut. She even reacted to him like Elena would have. Or had that just been his imagination?

Maybe it had. Her eyes were open now, unaffected and focused on the darkness ahead.

She flicked on the indicator then turned into a side road. Following it with the headlights blazing light on the small motel situated a few yards away, she gripped the wheel as they bumped along. She pulled them to a stop and unbuckled her seatbelt.

Her body shifted in opening to him but all he did was look through the windshield.

"We should get inside." She said softly.

He nodded, released his own seatbelt and with a shove open of his door, climbed from the car. His boots crunched along the gravel and his hands crept into his jeans pockets.

He wandered through the single, white painted wooden door into reception and grunted when the light hit him. The pain he'd felt everywhere hadn't eased off in the slightest, something he hadn't been aware of in the dark of the car.

The woman behind the counter gave him a smile, and he returned one that waned dramatically in comparison.

With the reminder that he desperately craved a drink, or a dozen, he approached the desk. "Do you sell drink?"

The smile on her slightly aged face didn't falter. If he had to guess, he'd say she was almost in her forties. "No sir, we don't."

He folded his arms to lean against the cool counter. "You keep a stash though, right?"

She blushed. "No- I-

"Come on, I won't tell." He assured. "I'll even pay you for it."

"Alright." She bent to a crouch, completely disappearing from his vision then bounced back up with a bottle of Jack in her hand. And with only a quarter of it missing. Perfect.

He dug into his pocket, let a few tens fall onto the counter then snatched up the bottle the moment she set it down. Like it was an air supply when he was drowning, he unscrewed the top and took a long, painful gulp.

Katherine entered a few moments behind, a bag now secured on her shoulder and a judgemental look in her eye the moment she saw him guzzling. She approached the receptionist, her hands wringing together ferociously.

Why was she so anxious? He had to wonder. He'd never seen Katherine anxious before.

And when had she gotten the cut on her face?

"One room, miss?" the woman asked in a chipper voice.

"Two." Katherine corrected.

"For how long?"

"One night," her hand slid into her bag, pulled out a handful of notes and set them on the counter. The receptionist handed over two keys, leaned in close and whispered something Damon's hearing couldn't quite catch. Katherine responded with a half-smile, turned, with a worried look on her face, and led the way.

He kept a space between them as they walked, and when she opened the door to her own room, gestured him inside, he didn't bother to argue, just took another swig then flopped down on the bed. He gazed around the room.

"Ah, adjoining. Convenient." His lips quirked into a half smile against the rim before he swallowed down more. Funny, he'd come to the conclusion he wouldn't be able to smile for a long while.

The keys clanged against the side table as she tossed them onto it then swiftly moved towards the small window at the opposite side of the small, dingy room. She snapped both curtains shut then made the smallest gap in between to peek out of. "I think it's safe now."

"Safe?"

She turned, unzipped her leather jacket and with apparent discomfort, slipped out of it.

"Katherine, what-

He put down the bottle at his feet, rose from the bed. The V neck, long sleeved purple top she wore was seeped through with blood, so much blood.

She tugged at the hem then pulled it over her head, a soft hiss passing her lips. Before he could speak, not that he even had the ability to in that moment, she marched towards the door he assumed was the bathroom, entered and lent over the sink to gaze in the mirror, leaving the door open for him to watch. Her fingers went to her eyes, and with her thumb and forefinger she latched onto something then haphazardly tossed it aside. Then did the same with the other.

He stared at her, baffled, his head spinning. What the hell was going on?

Then with the nervousness he'd seen all the way here, she re-emerged. Standing there, her upper body naked except for a black lace bra, the flawless skin sliced in multiple places deep enough to make him cringe. Her shoulders, her arms, it hurt him to look, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Then, he saw her eyes. The warm chocolate that weakened him, the soft, loving expression, it was all there. It knocked him back on his feet and robbed his breath.

"I meant it when I said I wouldn't leave."

He felt the words reach in his chest, grasp his heart and tug fiercely. "I know I already broke that promise once," she started towards him then stopped when his hand lifted. "I didn't plan on doing it again."

"I don't- I don't understand." He found he could barely speak over the huge lump clogging his throat. She took a few small steps forward. Caution and fear surrounded her on every step.

"I don't understand…" he said again. Frowning, he dropped his gaze to the carpeted floor, his head throbbing much too painfully to look at her any longer. He wasn't sure if he'd blinked for a whole minute. He shook his head, hoping to force in sense, or reality, then lifted it to look at her beautiful, bruised face again. How hadn't he noticed all these things before? Did grief truly blind you? "Is this a dream?"

God, he hoped it wasn't. She shook a 'no' with her head.

"You…" he searched her face then choked out what he feared to believe for even a second, "You're here."

Tear glazed her eyes. "I'm here." Her voice was hitched and it caused the pain in his heart to grow.

"You're here." True happiness filled him, a smile and a single tear came. He took her head in his heads, his fingers skimming the silk of her hair.

"How-

She cut him off with a finger to his lips. "I'll tell you everything. Everything you want to know. First, could you just…" her face broke and tears fell recklessly down each cheek. "Just hold me."

She moved into him, her arms going under his to grasp at the back of his shirt and her face burying into his chest. She shook violently against him and sobs so pain-filled dragged from her chest he feared what had happened in that empty building. His arms enveloped her and his lips went to the crown of her head.

Was this even real? An hour ago, he'd believed this was gone. Now, she was here, in his arms, crying. He feared to truly be convinced by it. If he should, he didn't know if he could deal if it turned out it was all a dream. His hand went up to cradle the back of her head for a few moments before she pulled back.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know how to- all the way here… I just wanted... but she told me, she said I had to follow through with the plan until we got here because they had to believe it, they had to believe I was Katherine." She gasped for air and her head shook before she returned to the place above his heart.

"I couldn't, I couldn't let anything happen to you. Not to you," she pulled back again, placed her fingers to his cheek. "Not because of me. I just needed to fix… everything."

He said nothing. He wasn't sure he could find anything to say. His head was muddled and he swore he couldn't pick a coherent thought from it.

"Please say something," she pled and her fingers curled around his shirt when he made a move to retreat. His hands closed over hers then pulled them from him. He stepped back, turned and looked everywhere but at her.

He should be cherishing this moment. He had her, she wasn't dead. She wasn't lost to him. She was here, within reach, within touching distance. He should be holding her, thanking whatever God, or force was out there for her brilliant plan. But he couldn't. He felt…wrong. He didn't understand how she was here. One minute, she'd been Katherine in his eyes, now she was Elena. All the way here, she'd been Elena. How could he have not realized?

"Are you angry? Are you… anything?"

"I don't know!" he exclaimed, whirling around to face her then took a calming breath when he saw the pain written on her face. "I don't know what I am right now," he blew out a harsh breath, turned away from her again. "I want to be angry, I want to be… livid." The word came out in a growl. "Fuck, Elena." He ran both hands through the roots of his hair and felt the thrum of his heart in reaction to voicing her name for the first time since he'd thought the opportunity was lost to him forever.

He turned back around on his heel. "Don't you get it? I thought you were dead." It hurt him even to remember how it had felt. "Yet there you were, next to me, in the car, pretending to be Katherine." He ran a hand through his hair once more. "God, I don't know. I just need… I need some air." Not bothering to give her another glance, he left the room.

And Elena, even with the sickening worry that this was the beginning of a downward spiral that ended in him leaving her, let him.

Elena moved around the room and every now and then let her gaze drift to the closed door, unsure of what to do. With an aggravated exhale, she pulled her hair free then strolled into the tiny bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror and scoffed with disgust. Her face was bashed and bruised where Frank had viciously hit her and the cut along her cheekbone was as clear as day now that the makeup had worn off and she wasn't using her hair to hide it. She hissed as her fingers lifted to prod it. But it was nothing compared to the others located further down her body.

Slashed at her shoulder and both arms, the blood that had seeped from each was dried and covered the undamaged skin surrounding. Twisting her arm around to unhook the clasp of her bra, she tried her best to ignore the burn erupted from the deep wounds that made her want to curl into a ball until it was no more. The black scrap of material hit the floor and she realised the worst was yet to come. She popped open the button of the jeans Katherine had given to her, bent with discomfort and mentally braced her-self before dragging the denim slowly down both legs. She cried out as it rubbed against the open wound upon her thigh and refused to move them any further for a few moments.

She gasped for a calming breath then began again. Convincing herself that this wasn't even near to how painful it'd been when she received it, as well as deciding it would be better if she got it over with quickly, she forced them down and yelled out when the sharp pain hit it.

She took a shuddering breath then stepped out of them.

She was sore, she was exhausted. And she just needed Damon to hold her. But she wasn't about to get that. The realization brought more tears to spill and a sob to rip its way from her chest. She dragged down the matching black panties, hissed when it grazed the wound then tossed them to the tiled floor to join the rest of the clothes that didn't belong to her.

She pushed back the see-through shower curtain, turned the knob located on the wall to medium heat and let her hand linger under the soft spray of water before hiking one leg, then the other over the side of the white bath to stand fully under it. The water dipped into the damaged flesh and she bit back a cry. She closed her eyes and ducked her head under the water.

Her hand splayed out against the wall tiles in front of her.

Daddy!

She heard the young girl inside shout. That's who it needed; her father. There had been a time when only her father could console her, heal her. Then he died, and she'd realized he wasn't there to help her get past it. The one person, who could fix her, was gone. And it wasn't until Damon came along that she realized she'd never really been fixed. All those years, she had been desperately holding together shattered pieces of herself, hiding behind the poorly glued together doll in her image, trying to make it through. Then he came along. And somehow, being with him, it fixed her. And the woman she was now needed him. She needed the man she'd fallen in love with, she needed the man she'd done all of this for, the man she'd do it a thousand times over for.

Twisting her neck, she inspected each cut. The water had washed away the dried blood, leaving the skin looking fresh. It didn't make her feel that way.

She heard soft, careful movement and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She turned, fear caught in the pit of her stomach that disappeared the moment she laid eyes on Damon. He was looking at her through the curtain with intense, sorrow-filled eyes. He stripped off his already open shirt and slipped out of his jeans, causing her blood to run hot and fast. She didn't think she'd seen any man as beautiful and sexy as him. Naked, he stepped into the deep bathtub and drew towards her, their eyes never unlocking.

"How could I not know?" it was a small murmur, something he was more likely saying to himself than to her. His hand went around the cup the back of her head and his lips lowered to skate under the cut on her cheekbone. Her body tensed, awaiting the wash of pain, but felt none. His lips barely touched her.

Her breath hitched and her eyes reflexively drifted close. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. He moved down, his lips finding the damaged flesh at her shoulder, then her upper arm. His fingers circled her one wrist, lifted it then let his lips run along the one on her forearm. And when his knees met with the bathtub floor and his hand ran down her stomach, she opened her eyes. Both hands drifted down to join his lips on her thigh, and she felt her heart might burst from her chest. His lips parted against her skin and the warmth of his breath touch her. His name fell from her lips in a whisper and her fingers tangled in the roots of his midnight hair, he seemed to revel in it.

Taking another long moment, his hand ran down the back of her leg while his lips remained ghosting over the deep, cruel cut. Then he rose up. His eyes wore a darkness that made her body quiver and beg for a release only he could give.

She didn't want to ruin the moment, to break the sensual silence, but she had to.

Her mouth opened but he stopped her. His head shook slightly and his fingers moved to touch her face. But they stopped before reaching her. Realizing the sudden war raging inside him, she took his hand and put it to her cheek. It set a certainty in his eyes and his touch that allowed her relief from the ache of worry she'd had since the plan had been put into motion. But the way he looked down at her now, the fascination, the awe, the desperation. It took her by the throat and had her forgetting everything that wasn't this very moment. His head tilted, his eyes scanned the place where his fingers trailed her neck before he moved in, and tasted. Her hands slid around his narrow waist and up the muscles of his back. He feasted on the weak spot of her neck, thoroughly, expertly. His one hand held her in place at the back of her head while the other slipped down her body to the desperate throb between her legs and cupped. Her teeth sank into his shoulder and a moan spilt onto the flesh as his fingers were welcomed by the wet heat he hadn't had the intense pleasure of experiencing for almost three months. He stroked her, hard and ideal, forcing her fingers to curl and her nails to dig into his back as an orgasm hit her.

He reared back a little, his eyes flickered over her face then he forced her back against the tiles. He moved in, and finally kissed her. It was hungry, it was everything she needed. It set her on fire and it comforted her. It was something she would never understand, and didn't have to. His hands took hold of her hips, lifted her off the ground. Her legs and arms locked around him and in one calculated drive, he buried himself inside her. He rolled his hips and she moaned as a second orgasm rattled through her.

He pulled almost all the way out, paused.

She looked at him, serious and genuine. "Don't hold back."

And he didn't. Reminding her why he was the best she ever had, he took her up until she thought she may explode if she went any further. Each time, his thrusts were harder, deeper, and it hit her with an increased pleasure every time. It was animalistic, desperate and made the pain in her wounds forgotten. Every now and then his fingers would trace the side of her face and his lips would grab hers in a kiss. He would look at her, in the way he always had and she was home.

A/N: SO I was having a conversation with my father, and he said about how he likes it how books dont always have a happy ending, and was mine a happy ending? And straight away I agreed, but said, the people in this deserve it. And they do, Elena more than anyone, so it's never been any other way this was going to go than a happy one. It was never going to be left with Elena dead, it was always this. A glamour, a trick of the mind.

Truthfully, I'm nervous about this. I don't know if you're not going to like what happened, or think its unrealistic, but to me, it's not. There are small hints showing its not Katherine. The way she becomes in more pain than she should be when he grabs her, the way she responded to Damon's touch in the car, the emotion she let slip, the anxiety, the way she looked at him when he first showed up, then sort of masked it. And at the end of the day, Damon's so overcome with emotion, he barely looks at Katherine, not really. Which again, proves there is no one but Elena for him. I was wary going in, describing what it felt to lose someone because well, I've never lost someone like that. But fingers crossed, it was believable because everyone knows pain, and everyone knows struggle. Some more than others, but you get the gist.

I know I said this was the last chapter, but I cut it in half. So one more left! Then its finished. Its not going to be some fairy tale ending, because well, Elena still has explaining to do, which will all be in the next chapter. The whole plan, it's all being told right now, I'm still going ;)

That's enough from me! I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think etc etc. I adore the reviews, the favourites, the follows, even the people just viewing. You're amazing.

OH and if any of you have tumblr, follow me! I'll follow right back!

THANKS GUYS.