It was a quiet ride back to the apartment. Neither knew what to say for fear of saying the wrong thing. The silence, strangely enough, was a comfort for each of them.
Damon unlocked the door to her apartment, holding it open and letting Elena head inside first. He followed her, watching as she shuffled tiredly and opened his mouth to break the silence, but he never got a chance to speak.
"Don't," she sighed, closing her eyes with a frown and wearily shaking her head. Reaching her dresser, she yanked open a drawer to pull out a tank and pajama pants. She shimmied out of Damon's shirt and into the navy blue spaghetti-strap. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?"
Elena wanted to pretend that she hadn't just miscarried, but the truth of the matter was that she'd lost a child. They both had. So many thoughts now spun through his head. Why hadn't it survived along with its brother or sister? Why hadn't the other baby died along with it? Would the surviving fetus even make it to term? Would it be healthy? Doctor Peterson had tried to reassure them by saying that so long as it happens in the first trimester, the surviving baby should be healthy with no lasting effects. They'd wait for her to pass the embryo naturally and then everything else would return to normal. The only warning their doctor had given Elena was to avoid stressful situations for the remainder of her
pregnancy, that another incident could be life-threatening to both mother and child.
Damon nodded in silent agreement as she got into bed, crawling in under the sheets and pulling the comforter up to her chin. He didn't really want to let go of the subject but knew that if he tried to push it, she'd get upset, and he didn't want to add any unnecessary stress. She gave a small grateful smile in return and rolled over on her side, her back to him as she buried her face into her pillow.
Damon sat on the edge and ran his fingertips up and down her arm. "If you don't mind," he started to say, "I think I'm just gonna crash here for the night."
"You don't have to," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow. "You've dealt with me enough."
"I don't want to leave you alone. I want to make sure the two of you will be okay." He didn't want to be away in case anything went wrong.
"Mhmm," she mumbled sleepily. He wondered if she'd even heard him. "That's fine."
Luckily, Stefan had also thought to bring Damon a change of clothes at the hospital. He took off his zip-up and T-shirt, leaving on his sweats, and climbed into bed with her. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, his mind racing with the revelations of the day, but with Elena in his arms, Damon managed to find that peaceful escape of sleep soon enough.
Around midnight, though, Damon woke to sound of sobbing. Eyes slowly adjusting in the dark, he saw he was alone in
bed. A pain-filled gasp caught his attention, and he turned toward the bathroom where a thin beam of light spilled from the bottom of the door. Instantly alert, he ran to it, panic swelling within him.
"Elena?" he called, knocking on the door. "You okay?" He twisted the handle and found that she hadn't locked it. He didn't want to just barge in, but her sudden silence unnerved him more than the sound of her crying. He offered her a playful warning that fell short of the mark. "Ready or not, here I come."
The door opened, revealing Elena hunched over herself, eyes shut tight and arms wrapped around her abdomen even tighter. On the toilet, her panties and pajama bottoms pooled at her feet and her inner thighs stained red. His stomach twisted as he realized what was happening. Their doctor had warned them, but he hadn't expected it to be so hard on Elena. Kneeling beside her, he placed his hands on her knees.
"Elena, look at me."
"Damon," she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to wake you up."
"You didn't," he said, trying to come up with a convincing excuse on the fly. "I...was already up." Idiot.
"Lie," she spit out before crying out in sudden pain. "It hurts so much!"
"What can I do?" he pleaded with her, his heart breaking at the sight of her pain. "Tell me what I can do."
She didn't answer him, focusing instead on getting through the pain, a few uncontrollable whimpers slipping through the tight seal of her lips. "Go. Okay?" she finally managed during short reprieve from the agony she felt. "Just go."
"What did the doctor say about it?"
"It could last from a few hours to a couple of days."
"Holy shit."
She shook her head, squeezing his hand. "I'm thinking it'll be over soon."
"How do you know?"
"I don't," she forced out a humorless laugh, wiping at the corner of her eye. "I'm hoping."
"What if you're here all night?" he asked, getting up and wetting a washcloth with cold water. He brought it back and wiped away the droplets of sweat beading on Elena's forehead.
"Then I guess I'll be here all night," Elena swallowed thickly, leaning into the cloth gratefully. He kissed her temple and stroked her forehead with the cloth until she was hit with another spasm of pain. Wincing, she pushed his hand away. "Thank you for wanting to help me, but you can go back to sleep," she panted, forcing a smile. "I'll be fine."
"I'm not going anywhere." He set the washrag down on the counter and brushed the damp hair out of her face. "I don't
