“I’m fine,” Damon said, shifting so he could sit up a little on the narrow gurney, fighting with all his might not to let Elena see how much effort the simple action had taken him. “I’ve recovered from a lot worse. Besides…” He held up the blood bag one of the medics had given him, complete with straw. “Free food.”
He had been lucky, the night before. A few feet closer to the explosion that had taken him out of the battle and he knew he wouldn’t be here, talking to Elena, today. He had been lucky though; he was still alive and healing, albeit slowly and with a bit of magical encouragement, and he was damned if he was going to let anyone convince him to sit out whatever COS threw at them next. This was what they’d all stayed for, wasn’t it? To fight a war. He wasn’t going to go to Mako and risk missing out on the action.
Elena was going to go, though. Although Damon knew how capable and determined she could be, she was human now and the idea of her getting caught up in the carnage scared him. COS had got far too close for comfort the night before, in the attack on the housing, and worrying about Elena had been a distraction Damon hadn’t needed. He knew he would feel much better about the situation if she went with Medical to Mako and left him to do the fighting (if it turned out more fighting was needed, which was looking increasingly likely), as soon as he was healed enough.
Elena did not want to go. She did not want to leave him (and most likely Stefan and Caroline) behind when danger threatened. She could be of use if and when COS struck again. Wasn't this what they had stayed for? To fight in the final battle? But she knew that he was right, at least in part. She had to go to Mako to help medical. It was where the greatest need was, at least for her.
She took his hand into hers, forcing a smile at his attempt at humor. "Free food is nice," she agreed. She had stayed with him as much as she could since the housing battle, not as much as she wanted with the other wounded and her duty to medical, but she had managed to eke out hours between patients. It had been rough seeing him brought in from the explosion, waiting for him to heal. And Damon was immortal. He could heal, given time, magic, and enough blood. Others hadn't been so lucky. "I'm glad you're awake now…and feeling better. I thought -"
But she didn't say what she had thought. It was enough that he was here, even if he was forcing her to go somewhere else. It was only a temporary separation, right?
Damon didn’t need Elena to say any more than she had. She’d been with him when he’d come to again and the look of sheer relief on her face had spoken volumes. He reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze to try to dispel any lingering worry.
He knew it was going to be tough to be separated from Elena, even though he knew it was for the best. All he could think about was how hard it had been to be stuck in the prison world with no way back to her. It was all he could do to keep his exterior calm, cool and determined, when all he wanted to do was hold her tight.
“This is going to be short term,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. “As soon as we make sure Atlantis is safe again, I’ll come find you.”
She nodded. "I know," she said, forcing herself to be just as determined, calm, and cool. It was difficult knowing that their temporary solutions often ended up being much more long-term. That had been their luck, and just when their luck had started to change, they'd found themselves here. She squeezed his hand. "That better be a promise. I'm not old enough to be an Atlantis widow."
“I promise,” Damon replied, his cool, blue gaze fixed unflinchingly on her face. He knew he would do everything in his power to keep his word. He had too much to look forward to; he had no intention of giving up on his and Elena’s life together.
“Now, kiss me,” he said, the hint of a smirk turning up the corners of his lips. “Then go.”
She did smile at that. "You're lucky I love you," she said, before kissing him. She kissed him for what she hoped wouldn't be the last time, holding his hand tightly and praying to whatever gods oversaw Atlantis. "Come back to me when we've won."