For those of you reading 'How Never Became Forever' - I know you're still waiting for an update and it's been forever, but I finally got a moment to write tonight and this demanded to be written first. I'm hoping to have time to write the next chapter of that story this weekend.

I have no idea what this is, really. Just a drabble of sorts - maybe? Like I said, I don't know. Plain and simple, it's my way of dealing with the past few episodes and the way the D/E relationship has been handled. It's unpolished and probably contains a few spelling mistakes, but I literally just finished writing it. I wont have time to work on it any further tomorrow and I really just wanted to get it posted. So please bear with any mistakes.

Hopefully some of you will like it.

He told her once that her heartbeat - not the face she wore that was a spitting image of the vampire he loved at the time - was his first indication that she was something supernatural. The word special wasn't spoken, simply implied. Its pumping, faster than that of your average human. Its beats quick, steady, but strong – like a hummingbird's wings.

Lately she feels as delicate as the animal, but not nearly as strong as Damon then insisted she was.

This honest exchange happened months ago before Stefan resurfaced and relationships became messy again. Honestly, she misses these moments they shared; the friendship they mastered that felt comfortable despite teetering that delicate line separating them from lovers.

She has no idea what line they're teetering now, but somehow it doesn't feel as comfortable. They'd become so close, closer than she'd ever like to own up to, and it's the reason she knows where to find him.

Her feet lead her to the top of the falls - a spot she used to associate strictly with Stefan. It's fitting that Damon's here considering everything about these two brothers and her tends to overlap.

That heartbeat is what he hears first. She's never be able to sneak up on a vampire, especially this one who understands the precise rhythm of her heart better than the silence that comes with his. Funny how she understands the silence of his better than the sound and pattern of hers lately.

He's thankful she takes calculated steps, offering him a decent amount of time to collect the reel of thoughts playing through his mind after the day and dreams he's had. He's sitting on the edge of the cliff with his legs dangling over the edge, nothing but a sheet of black and tiny speckles of white stars as his backdrop and she imagines how free he must feel. There's nothing confining about a vast distance of night sky.

He doesn't turn as she approaches. Just lets out an unnecessary breath of crisp night air and mutters, "You found me."

"You didn't make it that difficult," she counters.

"Quite the contrary," he disputes as his face twists around to drink her in, "I did." His cerulean orbs shine in the moonlight, lingering on hers as the implication hits its mark. Still, he doesn't dwell on that and instead lets his head slide back to the black he'd previously been drowning in. "I just needed a minute."

"I can go if you want me to," she offers.

"It's a free country," he retorts. "Your choice and all."

His eyes aren't directed on her, but she doesn't need that form of connection to understand he wants her to stay. He'll never come out and say it directly, not anymore.

So she makes the choice and places herself on the earth next to him, allowing her feet to dip over the edge along with his. A few moments pass in silence and she wishes the seconds aren't as uncomfortable as they are. Their exchanges were always so natural, never easy, but always natural. Now she can't find a single word to say.

It's a result of her own actions lately, there's no denying that, but she doesn't know how to find their way back to the place they were before. She's not even sure it's possible to get back.

As she works through the different options of dialogue starters in her mind, he listens to the hyperactive beat of her unique heart. It's sound distinct amidst the chirping crickets and cascading water. Even despite their distance lately, he still wants nothing more than to pull her into him and feel the light she provides because he needs it now more than ever. Maybe if he'd paid attention to the part of it that still resided in him after their last lip-lock, he wouldn't have made the asinine mistakes that led to him chained up in 'Casa De Original'.

Or maybe the problem is that he can't feel that light anymore. At all.

He's surprised when she interrupts their deafening stretch of nature noises with the most obvious statement she could have tossed out. "I know you must feel conflicted."

He bites back the laugh as it courses through his stiff limbs because if she only knew how conflicted he really was, then she wouldn't have brought it up. It would be so easy to tell her that a day hasn't gone by since he's met her where he hasn't felt conflicted. Whether that confliction's rooted in his typhoon of unrequited emotions, desire to take what he wants, or his moral compass that can't stop pointing uncharacteristically north.

Unfortunately, pulling that elephant into the center of their little huddle session would do neither of them any good at this point. It's the first time they've attempted to have an honest conversation in weeks. And besides, she's not referring to his everyday battle. She's speaking about the teacher and the fact that he's supposed to be at his apartment gathering the last weapon capable of killing those damn originals.

So he slips a smirk up his lips and mocks, "Well, aren't you perceptive."

Her sigh is loaded with frustration as it escapes her lips, but after it's released she knows he has every right to throw up that standard brick-wall of security. Their interactions lately haven't exactly been pleasant and more times than not, she finds herself justifying it with the fact that he's the only one strong enough to handle her brunt honesty; even if it's painful to hear.

But she wants to be there for him. He deserves it. So she softly urges, "C'mon, Damon, it's alright to admit you're not ready to get the stake from Ric."

There's a second where neither one knows which direction the conversation's about to head. Elena waits to hear if more deflective sarcasm fires from his lips and Damon contemplates launching it.

However, he's missed these moments of honesty as much as she has and frankly he's tired of keeping truths from her. Letting this little one leak through couldn't possibly cause more damage than the day's already brought.

The blue of his eyes is unmistakably dimmer when he turns to her and admits, "Once I do, it just proves we've managed to fail again."

Encouraging lines play at the back of her throat and fall onto her tongue, ones that would sound as ridiculous and meaningless to him as they do to her. And after a second of hesitating, she counters his honesty with some of her own.

"I know," she acknowledges softly, ignoring the obvious reason why they've failed in this case. It's not the time to bring that fact up and Damon wouldn't take kindly to a reminder of his brother's humanity anyway. It's one, if not the only; reason they've found themselves so dysfunctional lately.

"Failing," he snorts, "It's certainly an art we've managed to perfect."

She shakes her head dejectedly and inches towards him, all bright eyes and pointless optimism. "There has to be something after this. This can't be our last move," she insists because she refuses to accept that. Somehow after everything Stefan's been through, everything her friends and family have been through, everything the two of them have been through, there has to be a rectifying ending.

The laugh that leaves his throat lacks any trace of humor as he lifts his hands into the air and invites with dripping sarcasm, "If you have suggestions, I'm all ears."

Regretfully, her mind offers nothing.

Still, that determined fire that's vacant in his eyes refuses to leave hers as she counters, "So what are you insisting? We just sit back and let Klaus and his family run our lives?"

"No," he snaps, suddenly pissed that he's not allowed the moment he came up to this fucking cliff to enjoy. Her body stiffens along with his as he explains, "I'm insisting you give me the five minute time-out everyone else gets the luxury of taking before I figure out where we go from here."

She softens instantly as his face curls back towards the darkness before them and they fall back into uncomfortable silence. The evidence of her hostile attitude lately is present in every crease of his expression and she regrets now the way she's handled her own confusion.

He's always been stronger than Stefan, but it doesn't justify the way she shut him out once his brother started resurfacing. And it doesn't justify her need to have him continuously fix the Klaus problem while acting as the reason behind all of his.

Secretly, she wishes she had the strength to be his solution.

"The only one he wants is me." The harsh reality everyone's chose to ignore falls from her lips in a breathy whisper. He picks it up, of course, and begins to rotate his neck in her direction, eyes narrowed. Was she really choosing to jump back onto this morality train?

"And once those stakes are destroyed, there won't be any weapons to kill any of them, so you'll have nothing to worry about," she reasons, ignoring the objecting look he's shooting her.

"You have the option to leave if you want to," she adds softly. Inside, she's simultaneously begging for him to take the out that would secure the longevity of his life and screaming for him to refuse it in order to stay with her.

At the reappearance of her martyr complex, all fight in him diminishes. It happens whenever he thinks of his world without her in it. No matter how damaged their relationship has become, he'll always welcome it over nothing at all.

So he pulls the sides of his lips into a devastatingly sad smile and replies, "No I don't," wishing that she understood how much he truly meant it.

Problem is - she does.

And it's instances like this where she has to believe that the possibility of eternity is what keeps her from falling effortlessly into Damon's awaiting arms. With Stefan, it made her jump without thinking because of the safety it secured. With Damon, it offers the span of time necessary to hold off until the timing is ideal. When they aren't living from one death threat to the next and a portion of her heart doesn't still belong to his sibling.

It's certainly a softer option than the one where she'll always love him, just not the way he needs her to.

She feels herself break a little at the sight of his smile and the fading flame in his blue irises, knowing she's the reason he's lost the hope he has and wishing she could give him what he wants.

Unfortunately, she can't yet. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. But she wants to repair that part of him that's broken, the part that surrendered completely when she threw his love back into his face. And she knows what's required to do so.

Her hand extends to cup the nape of his neck as she begins, "I'm sorry, about what I said the night of the ball. I never meant…"

But he cuts her off. He's wished for this moment far too many times for it to be wasted on a day where he's too exhausted, both physically and mentally, to give it his all. Especially when he can already see the truth in her chocolate orbs that the outcome won't be in his favor.

"We don't have to get into that," he dismisses, pulling her olive skin from around his. His body sags as he breaks their contact, hating how much the electricity remains on the location. "Not tonight."

"Alright," she complies after a moment of hesitating because it's clear he genuinely doesn't want to head down that road. But she still wants to fix that part of him that's broken; the part she broke.

So she shrugs her shoulders, and offers him something he's been craving to hear all day. A few words that inform him that despite her actions, she's still on his side and the trust is still there. Just a simple phrase to give him hope that someday all of the fractures they've each caused the other will heal and form something remarkable.

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you're not dead."

She has no idea how much the statement is truly worth because as he shoots her a lopsided grin and retorts a modest, "Thanks," he feels a bit of confidence start to rebuild inside of him.

And he has no idea whether the timing will ever be right for them, but as she shoots him back his own signature smirk, he realizes that at least time is something he has plenty to offer up in case it happens.

Please Read and Review! :)

Follow me on Twitter and Tumblr: morvamp