entrancelogs | [closed] if you must die, sweetheart,

( Damon has grown from the person he used to be to who he is now. He used to be a reckless monster. Any time he got hurt, he'd hurt back. He'd lash out. He's grown since then. He's not that person anymore, but it doesn't mean he's any less susceptible to anger and violence and lashing out when the pieces fit together in the right order.

He threatened to rip his own mother's heart out and bronze it like a trophy for what she did to Elena, because it was her idea.

And Elena died. She died, and when she came back, she's been hurt. All of it, it's hurt her to be a sacrifice again, to lose her blood, to be targeted and feel responsible for all the hurt and deaths caused by Freya's mirror. It stays with her, and he sees how it does. He sees it in her eyes, in her expression, in the way she holds herself. How it makes her numb sometimes. He doesn't leave her at all until the mirrors are forced back where they belong, and then- then-

He can't sleep. He paces the floor with the useless anger built up in his chest, tangled and angry, and it's what has him finally leaving the room, searching for the one of the one's who is responsible for letting mirrors come over at all (he can't get his hands on Freya's mirror. He can't, but he needs- he needs to be understood). It's all over the network. It's the same scientist who knew he was a vampire before Damon ever talked to him. Scientists always trying to control magic, to understand, to use what can't be regardless of the fucking cost.

He's on the prowl. )

[Insomnia isn't a unique affliction. Since the incident, Fitz hasn't been able to handle his sense of responsibility. It's his fault that all of this has happened. He's been forgiven by his loved ones, but he shouldn't have been. None of them should be willing to give him the time of day. He's been an abomination. Every death should be on his shoulders.

There's no lab for him to visit as he rides his grief in waves. It's been destroyed, wiped from the mansion. In a week or so, it'll be as though it was never there in the first place.

This place is full of magic that cleanses. That's the point, isn't it? If they stay here for long enough, they'll be cleansed too. Wiped clean, without any memory of home. Without any understanding of escape. It hasn't been long since they'd glimpsed that future. Perhaps they'll be happier then.

He ponders this as he pours tea in the kitchen. Presently, he's tapping a spoon along the edge of his mug, frowning. Had he used two sugars or three? He'd gotten so lost in thought, it was hard to remember...]

( Damon is quiet as he enters the kitchen, taking a good look at the man from the side. Being a vampire, it means he's earned a certain level of stealth, which comes naturally to him. He still thinks of Elena being dead. He thinks of Elena's brokenness. He thinks of- of how this was allowed to happen to her again.

He thinks of a lot of things.

And he sees the bruising on Fitz, the injuries clearly already on Fitz who has been all over the network being guilty for what he has done and what it has led to. )

Who did that to your face?

[He doesn't notice that anyone else has visited until long after Damon's entered. He moves on to adding a splash of cream, giving it a thoughtful stir. When Damon speaks, it sends his heart up to his throat. He cringes and shrinks first, then straightens as an afterthought. He turns to face the stranger, but doesn't raise his eyes.]

Hello to you as well. [He doesn't recognize the voice, but that hasn't meant anything lately. When someone's had something to say, they've been coming to him instead of the other way around.]

Last week happened. [It's been his go-to summation of everything that's gone wrong. People don't need the details, even if that's what they keep insisting they want.]

Was it a mirror or someone who actually suffered because of your choices?

( Damon says the words as he decreases the space between them. Already, Fitz is basically a whimpering, injured puppy at this point. His gaze darts over him half in frustration, because he knows he is not going to get the outlet he wanted here.

It doesn't stop him from speaking.

It doesn't stop him from pushing the issue because he has to, because his girl was dead (drained of blood in a bed) and his girl- his girl still hurts from it, and he has to act. He has to. )

[Oh. This is going to be one of those exchanges. Frankly, Fitz is surprised there haven't been more of these. Jemma is probably working herself ragged to keep the others at bay.]

It was one of the mirrors. She didn't approve of me trying to have them sent back.

[That's not the answer this man wants to hear. He's intimately aware of it.]

...But I'm sorry for your loss.

[There must have been a loss. So many people died...]

( Of course. Of course, it was one of the mirrors instead of someone who died, instead of someone who was hurt by a death, instead of- It was one of the mirrors having their way with him over something trivial and important like sending them all back where they came from. If he ever meets another mirror, he will kill them on sight.

He lets out a low growl, aware Fitz is already afraid, already ready for whatever he has to dish out, and Damon can't say it would be satisfying to dish out any violence on someone already so low, already so aware.

He doesn't give a damn about sorrys because sorry does not prevent Elena from dying. Sorrys do not prevent her from being used and broken like a thing again. Choices do not erase what she carries now, how it weighs on her, how it makes her afraid and alert and feel unsafe now in her own home.

Damon erases the distance between them until he's just a breath away from Fitz. )

Your choices got my girl killed.

And now she carries the guilt of every fucking thing that mirror did to get to her.

[But that's the rub of it. The mirrors are petty and ridiculous, but they still want things. They crave things. Their entire existence comes from want. There was a time when Fitz thought he could be sympathetic to them. That was before the last time. Before they'd killed him.

The man is suddenly too close. Fitz presses himself back against the counter as if that could possibly provide more room between them.]

I -- I know. And there's nothing I can say to change what's happened... [He trails off there, ineffectually. What could be gained by saying anything? He can't reach into the past and stop her from going through something horrific. There's nothing but this moment.]

( He's like some small whimpering puppy already kicked too many times, and Damon can't say there'd be any satisfaction in laying a hand on him now. Another growls escapes him. )

I'm Damon. ( Damon had stayed away before, afraid of Fitz, afraid of the science, afraid of what it would lead to like what happened with the Augustine though he would never admit to such fear. )

I know you already know who I am, and now you have a face to go with it.

( Damon got the sense he was already terrified of him long before Damon had any clue as to who the scientist was.

It's always scientists isn't it? Poking, prodding- tearing his eyes out with a scalpel and acting like the experiment was worth it. )

[And then, Damon gets real terror from him, as effectively as if he'd lay several hands on him. Fitz's eyes grow saucer-wide, and he clutches the counter behind him, knuckles white, as if it could provide some kind of security.]

Y-you're...

[It's Damon and Damon is here to do harm. He's come to use him as some kind of weapon against Klaus. Or maybe he'll do something to harm Peter for -- for whatever malicious little games evil vampires like to play with one another.

This is the side of things he didn't want to have to know.]

What do you want?

[ Damon has absolutely no idea what could have been said about him to elicit this sort of reaction. At the moment, it serves him for his own purposes. He hardly has to do more than to say his own name for Fitz to react as if he's the boogeyman himself.

It's funny coming from someone who makes friends with Klaus, but Damon is not here for any of that. He needs to make his point clear, and he'll use the fear already present to do so.

His face shifts into fangs, into veins, into his eyes becoming red around the center. his hands hook on to the counters on either side of Fitz's, and he leans in the rest of the way. If he wanted, he could sink his fangs in but he doesn't. For Damon Salvatore, this is remarkably controlled, but even he knows, all his violence is really aimed at everyone who has ever turned Elena into- who has reduced her to being a thing- being her blood.

And nothing else. ]

If anyone I love ever gets hurt because of one of your poor choices again, I will make certain you regret it.

[A whimper rises up in his throat, unbidden and unwelcome. But he swallows down the noises that would chase after it. His shoulders hunch up as if that could protect his neck that way. (do they even need that sort of access? Rebekah had used his arm when she'd fed from him) He fights against a tremor in his voice; now isn't the time for that.]

I already do. You can't possibly make it worse than it is.

I know.

( And all he wants is to stop it from happening again, to stop this endless cycle of Elena being broken and opened up for her blood or locked away in a coffin for years upon years.

It's why it's not worth it to do any more than this (and it's hardly worth it to do this either). Fitz already knows what he's done wrong, but Damon couldn't not do anything. He pulls back, letting his hands fall down again and then exiting the way he came. )

[As he leaves, Fitz at first doubles over, trembling. He feels nauseous from fright, guts churning unpleasantly. But he vocalizes a small sound, the last gasp of rapidly fleeing courage.]

Wait--

[He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't try to draw out this exchange any longer than necessary. But even now, he can't shut out the questions that have been driving him mad for months.]

I have to know -- Were you trying to help?

( Damon hesitates, stopping at the question, before he turns to look back at Fitz. He can't say he has any idea what Fitz is talking about. Maybe he should, but he's almost two hundred years old, and he's done plenty of terrible things. Trying to help doesn't generally sound like him. )

Was I trying to help when?

Last week -- when everything was.

[He shifts, pulling himself back upright.]

Well. the way it was.

Did you use your abilities to help people?

[Is there anything good in him?]

[ Damon doesn't know why it matters. He's not good. He never claims to be, and he always has trouble admitting to what he does right. Or good. To anyone. He healed Lucifer, and Lucifer would have died otherwise, but Damon doesn't mention that. ]

I tried to save my girl, and I failed.

I didn't do anything else after that.

[ Damon could not pull himself away from Elena to help anyone else, to do anything else, and he has no regrets when it comes to that. She was terrified. He was switched with his mirror once. ]

Your blood can heal.

[It seems gauche to suggest something so common to Klaus. But doesn't Damon know Peter? Why isn't Peter allowed to benefit in the same ways that Fitz did during the last event? Klaus kept him alive while Peter was scraping along half-dead.]

Have you ever considered its applications during emergencies?

Gee. No.

That has never occurred to me before at all, and I absolutely have never used it like that. [ Except where he has, but what is admitting that. and why the hell would he? ] My eyes have been open. Thank you, portal-creator who is responsible for letting all the mirrors come over and murder people on this side.

[ Can you hear the sarcasm in his voice, Fitz?

Cause it's dripping on every single word, and now he's done with this conversation, turning around and leaving the way he came. He can't say he gives a shit what Fitz thinks about him as long as he's still scared enough to not be a threat to someone he loves. ]

[closed] if you must die, sweetheart,

for Fitz

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