A/N: Quick hello to a humongous prologue. I wanted to once again thank everyone who has read and reviewed my other stories, and also the any new readers out there.
I've chosen "Through the Ghost" by Shinedown as the theme to this story after much deliberation.
As is typical of my style, we'll do a bit of time jumping, even in the beginning. We're only going back a few years this time, but as the story progresses, we'll dive headfirst into the life and events that led them to where they are today, living every emotion as it happens.
Thanks again!
Through the Ghost
Prologue
Present Day
"Friday can't come fast enough this week, I swear," Elena yawned, hitting the switch to kill the lights in her office. "I've slept like shit all week." Between her work schedule and volunteering, she was spent.
"I know," The blond man smirked, "I was there, remember?" He followed behind her as she closed and locked the door to the clinic for the night. It was 6 p.m. on a chilly November Wednesday. He flipped the collar of his coat up to shield his neck from the wind and rest a gloved hand on her back as he led them toward their cars. "Because of it, I slept like shit, too," he winked. "And loved every second of it, trust me."
"I'm sorry," she said sadly. "I don't know what it is. Things have been good lately. I just can't shake the feeling that something feels off with me. Maybe we should take a few nights off. I haven't slept in my place in weeks, Matt."
"And that's exactly why you should just move in with me. We already share a practice," he tipped his head toward their dark brown brick building. "Why not share a place? We could get a house, a dog if you wanted…"
Elena's heart sank. Moments like this reminded her exactly why she wasn't ready to commit. It had taken nearly a year to agree to start a practice together. He'd begged her until she'd finally given in and she didn't regret it. Her work had once been her life; it was easy to default back to that type of thinking when things got too hard. Patients and paperwork were the easy parts of her life.
When she said nothing he tucked his hands into his pockets and looked down for a second before meeting her eyes. "I got it," his lips formed a thin, understanding smile. "It was just a suggestion. No pressure," he assured her.
Matt was a wonderful man. He was handsome and charming and everything she should've wanted in a guy. There was just one problem. She was confused as hell when it came to what she really wanted with him. They were great friends and just recently added the 'benefits' to their relationship. That was where the confusion came in. She knew better than to screw around with her medical partner. If…when it went sour, they'd have a mess to deal with at the office and that was hardly ethical or fair to their patients. They were a ticking time bomb and it seemed she was the only one who felt that way.
But something had to give. She couldn't mourn Damon forever; he wasn't even dead…at least not really. She was in love with someone who no longer existed. It was time to get over it and move on. Was she seriously going to die alone because one man didn't want her?
She'd said no plenty of times to men in bars because of him, the dark-haired angel that she couldn't get out of her head. But he didn't want her anymore…maybe he never truly had. It was that uncertainty that hurt the most; everything that had once seemed so right now seemed almost imaginary.
It was time she let herself try to be happy, and with trust issues like hers, she wasn't going to take that chance with anyone but a man she knew she could believe in. Matt was the definition of safe. He was simple and caring, unchallenging. At times that sickened her. They never fought, never disagreed. He kissed the ground she walked on and there were times she hated it. He just didn't boil her blood the way Damon used to. No one did.
She'd never been one to go for something so easy as Matt. She'd once fallen in love with the exact opposite of everything he was. Maybe she just couldn't bear the thought of replacing that feeling. Maybe that was why she couldn't commit, couldn't let herself fall in love. She'd reserved that emotion for one man and one man only, and regardless of the fact that nothing would come of it, she couldn't bring herself to forget him. He made her angry as hell, disappointed her more than anything had or ever would, but she was a fool if she said she hated him. She could never hate Damon Salvatore.
Matt was dedicated and he would remain that way for as long as she let him, but it was time to get serious and make decisions. She was being unfair to him and it didn't bother her like she should. That should've been the first sign that they were likely headed for a life of boredom and blah. She either needed to relax and have a change of heart or she needed to walk away before it went even further. When it came right down to it, there was only one thing she needed to do in order to move forward in any direction: let go of Damon.
"Too tired to catch dinner tonight? We could leave your car in the lot, go somewhere to eat and head back to my place. We'll be back in the morning anyway…I'm up for another sleepless night if you are."
She stopped before they reached his grey Audi, shaking her head. "I'm not feeling well," she frowned. It wasn't exactly a lie. The anxiety building in her chest was enough to make her physically sick. He never openly pressured her to commit but she knew how badly he wanted them to really be together. She wasn't even sure how she'd let her defenses down enough to slam into bed with him in the first place. She wasn't that kind of girl. At least she never used to be.
War changed people….even the people who weren't overseas fighting. The greatest part of her had clearly died anyway. Nothing was the same….never would be. She had to learn to accept it and find a way to be happy. It just wasn't so simple.
She could put on a smile and pretend to everyone's face but when she looked in the mirror she knew. She would never, ever let herself love a man as much as she had Damon Salvatore. That kind of love was lethal. That kind of love killed people's spirits, ripped them to shreds, yanked out hearts and stomped them into the dust with a smile on its face. Yeah, she'd never love like that again…not if she expected to come out of it alive.
She needed time to herself tonight…to crawl under her soft covers and let herself think and feel the way she needed to without regret. She couldn't have his hands roaming over her body, couldn't have his kisses pressing into her shoulders and neck. No sexual distractions that night. She needed time to remember who she was and figure out who she'd become. Things were moving too fast.
"You're sweet to offer but I think I'd like to take a bath and snuggle in with a good book tonight. I need some Elena time…" she said softly. He sighed, disappointed, but gave her an understanding nod.
He was no fool. She may crawl into his bed on an almost nightly basis but she wasn't completely his. She'd never been a liar, never been one to care what people thought of her. She'd been wearing those dog tags the first time he'd unbuttoned her shirt. That cold metal hung around her long neck and clung to her chest, imprinting another man's name in the skin outside of her heart. At least those were removable. He cringed every time his fingers slid along the smooth skin below her ribs and saw another man's last name scripted in permanent ink. He was everywhere on her, with her. And it was oh so cryptic and telling. Even if she did move on, he'd never really be gone.
She couldn't give him up. Damon Salvatore was a disease, as far as he was concerned; Elena couldn't overcome him, no matter what she claimed she wanted. When she really wanted to believe something she was as good at convincing herself as she was others. He'd known her for years, been her best friend the night she flew home from Chicago a hot mess with thick, dark streaks of mascara running down her pretty face. He'd vowed to her he'd never break her heart that way if she gave him the chance and he still lived by it. He just never saw the passion in her eyes when she looked at him like he saw when someone mentioned Damon. He was second best but it was better than being nothing at all.
"Sure. You rest," he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Call me later, if you need anything," he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled gently. Her stomach dropped. He had to be the most patient man on the planet. No matter how many times she denied him he just kept on coming back. It really wasn't fair for either of them. She was never meant to fit into a white picket fence kind of mold. She needed passion, something raw and challenging. Not this.
"You can do something for me," she started, her voice shaky. "Could you cancel my appointments for tomorrow or take some of my patients if your load isn't too heavy? I need a day. I really do," she frowned. He knew her history, knew her anxiety. He'd do anything to prevent her pushing things too far. "I'm sorry to do this to you…" All of this.
"Don't be," he smiled. "Don't be sorry for needing time."
Don't be so god damn nice, she thought. It was a kick in the gut. It just made it worse. Every day he proved why he was perfect and in turn, that proved how very imperfect she was.
She nodded, thanking him with a small hug before sinking into the seat of her own car. He sent her a small wave as he drove past and she let out a breath. She was an idiot, she decided, very unlike the woman she'd grown up wanting to be. If someone told her she'd be sulking and brokenhearted over a man years after the fact she'd never have believed them. She'd always excelled; there was just this one area that she struggled.
Elena started her engine, intending to make her way back into the city and up to her loft but found herself turning down familiar streets until she pulled in front of her favorite café. If anything could help her think, it was coffee. After ordering her usual, she slid into a booth by the window and let her thoughts drift as she watched the cars go by. The glass was cool and calming…frosting over to indicate the end of another year was drawing to a close. God, the recent years had passed so uneventful…they'd been nothing but a waiting game. And when the wait was over, she came out worse than before.
She'd been anxious to grow up, make a difference in life. Her childhood had gone by in a flash and she'd make some big decisions as she leapt into adulthood. Times like this, when she was stressed and tired, she wondered if she'd done everything wrong. Life could've been so much easier if she'd let it. No one forced her hand to sign those papers. No one told her to fall in love with a man she couldn't have. She could've gone to school for anything, done anything… anything would have been easier than this.
She should be happy! She had a successful private practice with a man who was practically Prince Charming. As ridiculous as it sounded, it just wasn't enough. She hated being the sad sack. It was an unflattering personality trait she'd never wanted to be associated with. There were just some things that couldn't be helped.
The door of the café rang as it opened and snapped her train of thought. The clock on the wall said 8:30 and she realized she'd been sitting there for hours and hadn't realized it. She definitely needed that day off. Even if she was just a physical therapist, she shouldn't be practicing when she was so very many places in her head. What would it take to take that leap, to finally tell herself it was going to be okay…that she'd known him for just a short time in her 30 years and she shouldn't let it define the rest of her life. How could she finally, absolutely let go?
Blinking a few times to clear her tired eyes, she froze on the man at the booth in front of her. Oh she was delirious! She was out of her damn mind, now. Maybe it was time to start the meds again…maybe she needed more the just one day off….
The man snapped his paper before he turned the page, hiding his face. She wasn't sure when she'd started to hold her breath but the heaviness in her lungs told her to let it out. Finishing her final swig of room temperature coffee and rubbing her eyes, she prayed she was delusional. For the first time in her life she wanted to be crazy. She wasn't ready for this. Not now, not here, and certainly not like this. She'd been ready before…two years ago. She'd been ready since the moment he'd stepped on that plane and shipped out overseas. But she was anything but prepared for him now. Now she was way too vulnerable to stand her ground and it was way too good of timing. Of course he'd show up like this when she needed to make a choice about her life. He'd always barged in at the wrong moment; she'd once seen that as an attractive characteristic.
Standing, she hoped she'd see an old man behind that newspaper or a teenager trying to look cool. But her heart slammed to a halt when she caught the man's dark hair again….dark as a raven and thick…at least an inch and a half thick on top and short and neat around the sides and neck. That was longer than she'd ever seen it…and it was so fucking beautiful. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. He didn't get to come back here and fuck with her brain.
Who was she kidding? It was like her life suddenly had new purpose and possibilities, no matter how bitter she was about the way things had gone before.
There was still a chance she'd seen him wrong. She let her gaze float down to his eyes and immediately dropped back down into her booth, frozen. Her face flushed, her stomach flipped from butterflies to mush to nausea. It was him. No one on the face of this earth had eyes like that. And he was acting like he didn't see her, but what were the odds he'd be there, sitting right by her by some fluke? Nothing was accidental with him. He was constantly aware of his surroundings…maybe now more than ever.
Fisting her hands tightly, her legs slid her out of the booth and carried her a few feet forward until she was in his booth, sitting right across from him with a look of complete anguish on her face. He flipped the page of the newspaper as if she was invisible. If she'd been stronger she would've forced herself away and stopped caring just then. His avoidance indicated not much had changed in the years since she'd tried. Her heart argued it was more courageous to stick it out and say the things she'd always needed and wanted to say. Maybe then she could finally put this behind her.
She cleared her throat, unsure of what her voice would sound like once she actually spoke to him. It was kind of late to worry about appearances now. This was it, their moment. They might never get another. She couldn't blow it…she had to say everything she'd wondered for years. She had big questions and he owed her answers.
In an instant the paper was down and folded and the man was revealed to her. Her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met for the first time in five years. And as hard as she fought it, she reacted the exact way she always knew she would. Her eyes were glassy in a heartbeat.
He wasn't smiling. He was frozen in his place, his hand wrapped around his steaming mug of black coffee. She searched and searched for something familiar but she could find nothing. His normally warm eyes were cold and hollow, as if he truly had never seen her in his life. He had a damn good poker face, though, and she could only hope that was the case this time, too.
"Hello, Elena," he said softly, and it was as if the angels sang his praises. Her name sounded beautiful coming from his lips. As angry as she was with him for the way he'd acted, she couldn't help but realize she'd once prepared for this. She'd once been mentally ready to fight through this with him, if he'd let her. It was when he'd turned her down that she'd gotten her reality check. He'd just been a lonely soldier, using her as a lifeline. Now that he was home he had options. She wasn't the only woman that would want him. Things had gotten out of control with them…fast…
The funny part of it all was that she hadn't once thought of Matt since she'd laid eyes upon Damon. He wasn't holding her back from what she wanted. She was the take what I want kind of girl and she wanted answers.
"Don't you dare do this to me," she said, heartbroken that those were the first words she'd said to him in years. It killed her that the reunion she'd craved for so long was turning into a tragedy. "You don't sit six feet away from me and pretend not to see me," she bit out through gritted teeth.
Truth be told, she didn't know what she felt in that moment. Relief…anger…a vomit-inducing combination of emotions that she wasn't on board with feeling after an exhausting pair of years.
He said nothing and her stomach churned. "And you certainly don't get to pretend like this doesn't make you uncomfortable," she pointed between them. "And sit there and say nothing when I'm the one acting like a fool here, Damon. Jesus Christ…"
His hand ran through his hair and he threw himself back against the pad of the booth, looking out the window for a moment as if he could find the words he needed to say.
"Why are you here?" she pled, the tears drying up, replaced with a burning fire in her eyes. "Say something…anything…or I'm walking out this door and I'm not turning back. I can't, okay? I can't..."
"Same reason you're here. I like coffee," he managed. "And I needed to think. This city's loud…but I'd take honking and sirens over the creepy quiet of the desert any day…" he struggled to swallow his words. She was surprised he'd already mentioned what had torn them apart. Iraq was a part of him now and what he'd seen there wasn't leaving him anytime soon.
"When did you get into town?" She was trying to keep it calm, non-confrontational now…as she was getting no reaction from her earlier questions.
"Last week," he sipped his coffee. Finally a straight-forward answer. "I'm here to stay now…I'm done in Chicago. I needed to come home. I'm out, you know…done with the Army…"
She let out a breath, feeling her hands shake on the cold table. She jumped when she felt his warm hand try to still hers, pulling away instantly. He frowned.
It had happened without thought, for both of them.
"Sorry," he said softly, staring down into the black abyss in his mug. He was rusty at this…at her. He was an asshole now; he knew that. But he wasn't trying to piss her off. He'd been stupid with emotions before he went off to war and he was in a whole different kind of boat now that he was back. He hadn't expected to come home the same man….he just hadn't figured he'd change this much.
But after what he'd done he couldn't blame her for pulling away. Even if he hadn't been in a good place back then he could've at least told her instead of letting he think she'd done something wrong. It had nothing to do with his feelings for her and everything to do with his state of mind. She wouldn't want a mess like him. She didn't deserve it.
"What is this, Damon?" She asked him with pleading eyes. "Are you just here to torture me…because you're doing a damn good job of it," She was playing the victim and loathed it. The sensible part of her, which didn't often show its face around Damon Salvatore, reminded her that she wasn't the only thing he'd been dealing with over the last few years. He'd come home a wounded veteran. He had more to worry about than making her happy. It was just so hard to remember that.
She just believed if she'd meant anything to him at all he'd have told her that in person instead of throwing his buddy to the dogs and making him tell her. What kind of man did that make him? She hadn't gone in there expecting rainbows and ponies. She'd just wanted him, no matter what condition he was in. She wanted him to need her, to lean on her in a way she'd never wanted anyone to need her before. She'd been totally and completely his since the second they'd kissed, no matter how long it took her to admit it. Now it was hard to imagine these icy eyes every looking at her the way they once had. Was the man she'd once loved even still in there?
She was mad at him, but mostly, she was mad at herself for feeling the way she did. She'd promised she'd be there, no matter what…but he'd promised her something too. He broke his promise without a second thought, it seemed, so why did she feel so obligated to keep her end of the deal?
Seconds felt like hours in the time she'd pulled her hand away from him. That one moment when their skin had touched reminded her of the power he had over her. She was a puppet that was gladly led by his tug on her strings. Even now.
When she sifted through the pain and all the other shit, there was still him. There was still the fact that he was sitting in front of her…even if it was years later. He was still alive.
"Why now?" She squeaked out weakly as her head spun with memories of the time she'd dropped everything to find him. She'd been on fire then, burning with excitement of a future she'd figured they'd have by now. She was in her thirties now, a childless, unmarried woman who was sleeping with a man she wasn't even sure she felt a damn thing for. What kind of person did that make her?
She remembered it like yesterday, the feeling of complete rejection. And despite what she'd always imagined, it was a whole hell of a lot more painful with him in front of her than it had been then…
Suddenly life was on rewind and she was reliving that day two years ago all over again.
2010
Elena's hand shook as it gripped the cold metal handle of a shop in downtown Chicago. Wrapped snugly in a thick black pea with black boots up to her knees, she caught her refection in the store's glass door and let out a breath into the cold winter air.
She'd imagined that moment hundreds, maybe millions of times before, but in her mind she'd never looked so cold or devastated. But there she stood with a red nose, pink cheeks and tiny snowflakes pattered in her short, wavy chocolate brown hair. Would he even recognize her?
Had she been ready to see him?
God, yes! She'd made the decision in a heartbeat, dropping everything to hop on a plane just hours after she'd found out he was back, a very unusual move on her part. It wasn't until after she'd boarded the plane and buckled her seatbelt that she'd gotten trapped in her own head. Too much time to think wasn't a good thing for Elena, never had been. She'd second guessed herself too many times because of it, always afraid to lead with her heart and not her head. It wasn't in her makeup to just let things happen; she made them happen.
For the first time in her life she wanted to believe there really was a bigger plan for her, for them. In the years they'd been apart she'd had no control and she hated it. She couldn't protect him, couldn't look in his eyes and promise him everything would be okay. For years she'd believed certain men and women were born to serve, including her. When it was her boy out there in the sand, however, she'd started to think differently. She never spoke about her feelings for him to anyone but everybody in her close circle knew…even Matt. The ache in her chest was almost unbearable now; it was obvious from the weak look in her brown eyes every time she looked at the American flag that flew outside her home. She'd believe in him until the day she died.
She'd been out of the military for years but she was still waiting. She wasn't a crier but she woke up on a damp pillow every now and again, clutching the cold metal tags around her neck. It wasn't fair. She was selfish to cry on the shoulder of a man who'd never make her feel even half of what Damon had in their short time together. But Damon was forced to be just a memory for so long, and it was getting harder to remember his touch with each passing night.
She'd been living on a promise for the last 2 years, waiting with baited breath for the phone to ring and his sexy voice to say baby, I'm home for you, but it never came. Instead she'd flipped open her newspaper that morning with her coffee and read a column about a wounded soldier come home from Iraq six months before. That was her notice. He hadn't even bothered to tell her he was safe and back in the country. All romantic feelings aside, that was enough to break anyone's heart.
The hurt came back to her as she sat on that plane, remembering the honest look in his eyes when he'd promised her they'd be together again. She'd never believed anything to be truer than his final words to her.
I will find you…The second I set foot on American soil, Elena, I will find you…
She'd managed to somehow go from furious to heartbroken in that two hour flight west to Chicago. It was ridiculous how weak she'd become. She'd spent her life putting duty before all else until she met him. He was dangerous and wonderful at the same time, and there was no turning back now. Despite everything and everyone at home she knew what was best for her. They no longer had to be oceans apart. And for the first time in her life she'd made a choice without worrying about the consequences. She'd doubted them enough when they were together, hadn't she? Or maybe she'd just questioned herself. They'd lost so much time hung up on what ifs and she wasn't sacrificing another hour if it was up to her. That made her selfish in a way, she knew, because she had no idea where he was in his own head. He'd chosen not to see her for a reason. She just couldn't bear to believe it was because he regretted loving her in the first place.
She could never regret him. Their relationship was against everything she believed in. She made exceptions for him and not just in the line of duty. They were different when they were together. She learned to see herself as a woman and not just a soldier. He'd given her confidence in ways she'd never have let herself find if it weren't for him. Come to think of it, they were thousands of ways of good when they were together; they were in the seventh circle of hell when they weren't.
Before this day she'd only been able to be with him in her head. And she was. Every time she closed her eyes he was there…real enough to touch and taste…inches from her with a dangerously sexy smile on his lips and eyes that could kill. Then she'd blink and they'd be somewhere else…somewhere deadly terrifying and hot. And they were amid explosions, running for their lives, but they were never nightmares to her…not if it meant they were together. And she knew she was crazy and in way too deep when she realized she'd go there for real in an instant if it meant she could hold his hand. She'd have died to just tell him she loved him once. Just once.
She'd been too sick and sad to say the words when he'd left and she regretted it every minute of every day for the last two years. She could've written him, told her she loved him in a letter, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him without looking in those beautiful eyes. And that was stupid, she knew, because there was a chance he'd die before he came home, and he'd die without knowing how she really felt. Her letters, if he'd ever really gotten them, had been filled with things that hadn't even mattered.
Elena was no stranger to farewells. She'd cared for many soldiers on that base and watched them go off to fight with fire under their wings. It was normal, expected, but they weren't Damon Salvatore. She knew she was in trouble the moment he stumbled into the picture with his snarky smile and the brightest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen. He was no ordinary soldier, no ordinary man. She'd never known heartbreak until he'd had to say goodbye. That day she was a woman who'd lost her man, not a physical therapist who'd shipped off another soldier from her base.
But that was all over and done with. He'd made his choice, clearly, and it no longer included her. War changed people. She'd seen it first-hand. She'd seen a soldier come home from battle and the emotions tethered to that return. She was logical and didn't often show emotion, not even around her family. But she'd always been a mess around Damon. Her brother had pointed that out the first time he met the guy. And she'd been a wreck the day he left. They knew it was serious when she'd curled up in a ball and wept.
She'd cried about very few things in life. The only other thing she could remember had been their father's death. She'd been 9and her brother Jeremy only 7. He'd barely been able to hold it together, but Elena's little hand was above her heart as that American flag was folded and those gunshots were fired.
That had been the day she decided what she was meant to do with her life. Everyone figured she'd change her mind…that a 9-year-old sad little girl would certainly change her mind before the time came. But years later she was signing on those dotted lines. If she had anything to say about it, no soldier of hers would suffer any more than they already had. If her father still had the use of his legs he would've made it out of that fire. He was a veteran, an American hero that saved lives in the Gulf War. He'd been injured there, but lived to come home in his wheelchair, tattered and torn. He could've gotten help if he'd wanted. He'd just been too damned stubborn.
He'd died on his own soil, in his own bed as their home went up in flames. Even at her young age Elena knew that was unfair. He'd come home only to leave them again.
But she was 28 as she made her way through the windy city, and she was certain the stinging in the back of her eyes had nothing to do with the cold November air biting at her face. And the twisting ache in her chest as her hand turned the knob told her she was toast…done for…throwing herself out there with unmatched desperation for a man who might not even give a damn about her anymore. Yeah, some soldier she was. If the guys could see her now, dressed so pretty, wearing her heart on her sleeve for Fort Drum's biggest womanizer…
But they weren't at the base anymore, and maybe that was the problem. And for all the times they'd said things would be so much simpler once they were out, it sure as hell seemed a lot more complicated. He'd been certain he'd never get deployed. He hadn't taken it seriously until he had to. Everything changed in a blink of an eye and the only thing that still felt real in life to her was them.
They were civilians with endless possibilities and that scared the living shit out of her. This was what they'd been fighting toward for years, living for….
They were younger when they'd met, maybe more naïve. They'd been desperate to hold onto to something normal, as most soldiers were before they went on a tour of duty. After years of nothing, it was easy to see how he'd make a promise out of that desperation. He wanted something to fight for, something to come home to….
Well, here she was. Scared or not, she was putting herself out there, taking a risk for them, as he'd once begged her to do. Regardless of his reasoning for staying quiet and away for six months, she had to believe he still cared for her. And she would be there for him if he let her, no matter what he'd become….and it had nothing to do with the vow she'd made to her late father's grave.
So instead of the happy reunion she'd dreamed of for years, she'd trudged through snow to find him, hoping she wasn't about to make a fool of herself. No matter how many different horrible ways this could go, nothing he could say would hurt more than him keeping himself from her. If he didn't love her, fine, but the least he could've done was tell her he was home, alive and safe.
The thought of never seeing him again was worse than anything he could say or do. And she was a masochist, maybe, because she'd rather he yell or snap at her for showing up than say nothing at all. The fire that flashed in his icy blue eyes was hotter and warmer than anything she'd ever felt, and she hadn't been living on a promise for it to end like this.
She took a breath and braced herself as she heard the clang of the bell on the door ring as she stepped into the shop. Stomping the snow off her boots lightly and unwrapping the red scarf from around her neck as if she'd be staying awhile, she scanned the aisles of the store. It smelled like oil and sawdust and her stupid little heart could just picture him arched over a tool bench, the strong muscles of his back flexing as he carved through the wood. It was hard to remember her sadness when she was around the things he worked with every day. And she was a maniac, the adrenaline pumping so quickly through her system she was certain she could fly.
Her hand shook as it ran along the counter, ready to ring the service bell and see his pretty eyes again. She hadn't seen him in years but she could picture every part of him in her mind. Commanding hands, strong back, big, cocky smile. What she wouldn't give for him to taunt her with that smirk again. In her head he was still that 23-year-old man…
When she'd heard about this place from the paper, she'd pictured it would be clean and beautiful with touches of Damon here and there. Pictures of the things he loved the most, the bold aroma of coffee throughout the aisles from some little back office. Instead she was met with blank walls and sawdust.
"Can I help you?"
Elena jumped as a voice sounded from behind her. It was calm and unfamiliar and she waited a beat before she turned to answer. She wasn't sure if she was happy or upset that it wasn't Damon.
The sandy haired man smiled and ran a hand over the stubble on his cheeks and his blue eyes shined. "You look a little lost…and cold…" he added and Elena sighed. "My guess is you stumbled in here to warm up," he waited and she said nothing. "Or maybe I'm wrong and you're in search of a hacksaw or a set of sheet metal screws,"
Once her head settled into place she knew exactly who this man was. Alaric Saltzman was Damon's childhood best friend. They'd talked about him a lot in their time together and as painful as it was that he searched this man out instead of coming home to her, she was glad he'd found someone. But Elena wasn't the warm and fuzzy type, at least not with anyone but Damon. She was too broken to show emotions to a man she only knew through stories.
"I'm uh," she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I'm actually here to speak to…"
"You've got a snowflake on your eyelash," he smiled, moving to brush it away but she stepped back and pinched it away herself, praying it didn't make her mascara run.
"Thank you," she said, surprised.
His smile told her everything. This man was getting his flirt on. She couldn't begin to explain how many things were wrong with the whole situation. She wasn't used to the attention and lately it had been thrown on her in heaps. First at home from her friend Matt…now this man...she could barely wrap her head around it.
"Sorry," he shook his head. "So which was it? You're here to warm up or to find some tools? I've got a coffeepot in the back. It'd just take me a minute to get some going while you look around…"
"I'm actually here to see Damon Salvatore," her throat tightened at the feel of his name on her lips. She practically choked just thinking about how badly she missed him. "I heard he works here."
"Yeah but he doesn't deal with customers," he swallowed. "He's all back office. I'm the floor guy. Direct any and all questions to me. I'm Alaric…"
"He'll deal with me," Elena said seriously. "I want to see him," she insisted, looking around the man to find a door leading to the back of the store.
"Trust me when I say you're better off not seeing him, okay? I've known the guy for years and I know he's serious when he says he doesn't want to be bothered," Alaric offered, crossing his arms and taking a deep breath. "I'm not going to push him."
"What's the supposed to mean?" Elena frowned, stepping to the side. Her heart hammered in her chest as she thought of what kind of shape he was in. Was he angry, sick, hurt? The article she'd read said he'd been home almost half a year. Surely he was settling back into civilian life by now. She'd just assumed he didn't care about her anymore. The reminder of selfishness flashed back into her memory. She wasn't his end all, be all…he had a life before her…
"It means you're not changing my mind, honey," he insisted, a small smirk growing on his face when her lips turned into an unintentional pout. "What's this about, huh? Are you some old sweetheart of his from back home or something? If that's the case, I suggest you just turn around and go home. The guy's not interested."
"I'm Elena Gilbert," she said as if it would make a difference. She waited for his eyes to light up in understanding, for him to move aside as if she'd said the one name that did make a difference, but it never came. His brow knit together and he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, I don't know that name," he said and her heart sank. Her head began to pound with disappointment and sadness. He'd shared countless stories of his childhood with Alaric during their time together and here he hadn't even once mentioned her name? She felt the color rising in her cheeks from embarrassment and envy of the man Damon had put his trust in. She was putting herself out there for nothing, it seemed, but she hadn't travelled for hours to be told she couldn't see the love of her life. Whether it meant everything or nothing at all to this man in front of her, she did mean something to Damon. She had, at least. He'd said she was everything.
"You have no idea what I've been through to get to this moment," her voice broke. "I'm just asking for a chance. Just please. Go back there, tell him I'm here. Say my name and if he still doesn't want to see me I'll leave…." She pled. "Please…" If only she believed it would be that easy.
He swallowed, catching the sadness in her eyes.
"And please don't just walk back there and walk out and say you asked him. I've just spent hours on a plane, walked through snow…and that's just today, okay? You don't know the half of what I went through before today to get him back,"
Alaric's head spun. This woman wasn't here for business. She had that look in her eye, the one Jenna had just before she'd yelled at him. He'd said he hadn't wanted to deal with her then but he'd give anything for that chance again….just one more day with the woman he loved.
This woman, Elena Gilbert, was here searching for something he feared she would not find. He'd known Damon since they were five and this Damon was very different. If he barely recognized his friend it was safe to say this woman wouldn't either. And if she was searching for a man she'd once loved…well, he wasn't so sure she'd find him. He was a shell of a man now, a ghost. It was a miracle he was still upright and breathing. It was amazing he talked to him at all.
She was beautiful and persistent and he couldn't help but want to help her. He wasn't sure who he was protecting by keeping them apart. She wouldn't find what she came for, even if he did agree to talk to her. Sometimes getting what you want is worse than having to wait.
"I can't make any promises," he said seriously. "The guy's got a mind of his own, okay? I don't even know you and somehow I feel like I'm going to end up hurting you here," he frowned. "Don't say I didn't warn you…"
"I'm tough," she swallowed. "You have no idea how tough." She assured him and he sighed, staring at her for just a moment longer before he spun around to head to the back of the store.
Her eyes scanned the shelves again, noting all the different types of screws and nails and anchors she hadn't realized existed. It was funny how little she actually knew about Damon's life outside of the military. He hadn't struck her as the tool man type. He'd been carefree and wild, as if he didn't know what kind of future was in store for him if he ever got out of the Army. This was the last thing she would've pictured him doing, but then again, she hadn't imagined herself this much of a mess about him, either.
They had so much to learn about each other and so much time now that they could be together without worry or reservations.
She heard the legs of a chair slide backward on the floor and her chest tightened at the possibility of Alaric being wrong. But the crashing of glass on the ground and a rough slam of a thick door gave her all the answer she needed. She didn't know the whys of it but she wouldn't be seeing her soldier that day.
In a minute Alaric returned with a sympathetic look on his face that made her stomach hurt. He took a breath and frowned as he moved closer to her and she closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he started. "I told him who you were and…" he couldn't get his sentence out before she shook her head and tried to wave it off as if it wasn't the most devastating news she'd ever heard. It was time to front.
"It's fine," she smiled but it was fake. Even a man who just met her could tell. "It's fine. My brother was right. I shouldn't have come…" she let out a choked laugh of bitterness. "Sorry to have caused a scene. I hope he isn't angry with you," she swallowed and caught the look of pity in his eyes before she turned to go. She wrapped her soft red scarf around her neck again and pushed into the door handle, ready to head back into the cold and let her heart freeze over again so it didn't hurt so badly.
"Elena, wait…" he called out. "This is probably none of my business but I kind of have to know what this is going to do to him…"
She stopped at the door and turned back to him now with bright, blurry tears in her eyes. For someone who never cried, she was wide open and raw to a complete stranger and she couldn't have cared less. "Nothing," she swallowed. "My guess is this will do nothing to him. If he was angry enough to slam doors and break…" the thick lump in her throat prevented her from finishing her thoughts.
"Listen, you're somebody…" he said slowly, as if he'd somehow learned who she was in all of five angry minutes in the back office. He couldn't possibly know the half of it.
"I wanted to think so," she smiled sadly to stop the tears from sliding.
"Look…" he ran a hand through his hair. "The fact that he got so stirred up about anything proves it. He hasn't…he's not…" he couldn't find the words. "I promised him I wouldn't give details about his life but you gotta know this. He's lost, Elena, and when I say lost I mean he's practically dead. And we might be strangers here," he pointed between them, "but we have something in common, I think. We both care a whole hell of a lot for that man in there. And he needs us."
"Maybe," she shrugged sadly. If he was so down and out she would've hoped he'd come to her. He knew her feelings for him, didn't he, or did he still doubt that she was serious? Yeah, she'd given him reason to question her feelings but she thought that was all cleared up. She meant what she said that night. He was her soul. But he couldn't expect her to wait around forever. He didn't get to keep her heart and never give it back if he wasn't going to love her back.
"Forgive him," he pled. "Give him time to come around…"
Time? How long did he want her to wait? If he hadn't had the decency to even come through the door and tell her he wasn't ready himself, she sure as hell couldn't spend the rest of her life crying over him. Of course that was easier said than done…
"How do you know? You don't even know who I am," she shook her head. "What did he say to you when you told him I was here?"
"He told me to tell you to leave…" he said honestly, unable to lie. And it was making it worse but anything, aside from fibbing, would have. "He told me to tell you no…"
Her heart shattered into a million tiny little pieces and scattered about that wooden floor. In that moment she it felt like she'd just wasted years of her life waiting for nothing.
"Well then he's right. I need to go," she said without emotion. "Sorry to have taken your time," she pushed through the door and let herself get swept away with cold emotion.
Present Day
The waitress appeared before them and slipped them once check, as if they were there together on purpose. Elena sighed, pulling it toward her on the table and shaking her head when the waitress left.
"I wanted to tell you…I'm home," he said seriously. She waited for a cocky smile or wink but it never came. It was as if the words were a challenge for him to say. "I needed to say it…"
"I'm too tired for this tonight, Damon," she opened her purse and rifled through for her wallet. "I've had a long day and a long week and I'm really not capable of sorting through things with you right now…especially with the way you're looking at me."
"I don't know what else to say, Lena…" he stopped when she looked up at him from her purse with sadness in her eyes. "Tell me what I'm supposed to say…"
"No," she closed her eyes, feeling a tear drop from her eyelash onto her lap. "I can't do that."
"You're angry with me," he stated matter-of-factly.
"You're damn right I am," she snapped, closing her purse and standing up to walk toward the front counter to pay for their drinks. She could be mad as hell on the outside but inside she was screaming.
"Don't be," he said, following her slowly. "You have no idea what I was going through…what I am going through…"
"And whose fault is that?" She said without thinking, not realizing what she'd alluded to. Of course she couldn't know what he'd seen in Iraq…but that wasn't what she was referring to at all. "I wanted to know how you were…who you were, Damon. I showed up the same day I found out you'd be home for six months. I was broken to pieces that you didn't come to find me when you got home but I was determined to find you, I still believed." she paused so the waitress could process their bill, dropping the change into the tip jar on the counter and wrapping her scarf around her neck again. "You chose to keep yourself away from me all this time. I was there. And you had years! Years to call me, even if it was to say really nothing at all. You chose not to. That is not my fault,"
"I know," he frowned.
"And?" Her eyebrows rose, shocked at his response. That's all he had to say?
"And like I said, you have no idea what I've been through…especially not then…"
In that moment she felt childish, as if she was a spoiled brat who didn't get the answer she'd wanted. Trying her hardest not to put her hands on her hips and go into full temper tantrum mode, she shook her head and walked toward the door. She'd worried for years that he wasn't okay since he'd come home from war. It had been on the forefront of her mind, even after he'd refused to see her. She was being selfish for making him feel guilty about what he'd been going through since his return. No one could understand. Not even her….
"I don't know what you want…" she said seriously. She was trying to ease it up but the emotion he pulled out of her was strong, crazy. She defaulted into panic mode from just seeing him. "But I know what I wanted. I wanted a chance to help you…for us to try everything we'd dreamed about when…" she swallowed, unable to continue. She wasn't about to bawl like a baby in the middle of the city in front of hundreds of passersby.
"I'm home now," he said simply. "It feels right to be back in New York. That's about all I know right now, too," he admitted, stopping at the passenger side of her car. He looked up at the sky when the sleet began to fall down into his hair and smiled. It was breathtaking. It instilled a sense of temporary amnesia, taking her back to a time when that beautiful smile was all she needed to feel calm. He'd been the best medicine in the world back then.
She was confused and angry but he was there. It was his way of trying to do something, she figured, and that was a whole hell of a lot more than he'd done a few years back.
"I don't what I'm doing, Elena," he admitted, stuffing his hands into his pockets so he couldn't move to brush a snowflake off her cheek. "But you're right. I saw you here…through the window. My place is down the road from here. I was out trying to see all the changes since I left this place. And I'm an ass for it, but I couldn't pass you by…"
She stayed silent, afraid to say a word as she opened her car door and motioned to get in. He continued as she slid into her seat.
"I need to go," she said firmly, willing herself to drive away before she ended up puddle of mush at his feet. "Thank you for telling me you're home," she stared straight out, and she didn't even mean it as a dig. "Take care of yourself, Damon."
"I…" he frowned and she waited a minute before she closed the door and started the engine. "Yeah, you take care of yourself, too…" he nodded, catching her eyes once more before she pulled away from the curb and back into the line of traffic. And as the street lights changed from green to red, green to red, she could see him walking in the winter storm, wind whipping through his beautiful hair as he limped. He looked lost and miserable and alone…and even if they were a complete disaster she hated to see him that way.
He squinted as her headlights pulled up next to him on the side of the road. Her window unrolled and she gave him the small, familiar smile she couldn't keep from her lips. "You're walking?"
"Yeah," his cheeks were red and his nose frozen. "Clears the mind,"
"Get in," she leaned over and popped the handle of the door. He stood there for a second, staring at her as if she was crazy before he made a move. "Don't make me say it again," she warned, and he hopped in willingly, pulling the door shut and holding his hands in front of the warm air blowing form her car vents.
Turn by turn he told her where to go, steering clear from anything too deep at first. Then as they pulled in front of his building it seemed he was frozen to his seat.
"I'm not okay, Lena…" he said seriously, and the words broke her heart. "I'm not…" he laughed sadly, looking out the window and up at the sky, praying the cold air would dry his tears before she saw them in the light of the street lamp.
It was a big, deep admission she'd never expected and she wasn't sure what to say.
"I don't know why I'm here now but I know why I couldn't be then," he managed. "And maybe I don't have the right to ask you to understand that, but I'm going to anyway because I can't not…" he waited for something, anything from her, but found nothing but silence. "I'm not that boy anymore and I'll never be him again. I don't know how to be…" he shook his head, as if it was the hardest thing he'd ever said but they both knew he'd said plenty of harder things in his life. "You don't have to forgive me for what I did back then, but I just wanted to tell you…in person…that I'm home. I'm not okay, but I'm here. That's the best I can do,"
"Okay," she said after a minute, desperate to get in her car, drive home and throw herself into bed where she could cry and scream and thrash against pillows. No one needed to see how she was really feeling just then…especially not Damon.
"Is that enough?"
"I don't know," she said, but inside she knew that was the biggest lie of her life. Once she got home, got settled and let her heard clear she'd realize she was nowhere close to being done with him. She wasn't sure what they'd turn into or if they'd ever be anything again, but they could never ignore what they'd once been. He clearly had problems and was reaching out to her in a roundabout way. She'd vowed to never let a veteran or soldier go defenseless again. If not for her own heart, she'd keep her promise to herself and to her deceased father. "You tell me,"
"I heard you've been volunteering at the Veteran's hospital," he said, his throat dry. She wondered where he'd found that out but was too tired to think it through. "Talking to soldiers…"
"Yes," she swallowed.
"Would you talk to me?" He asked after a moment. "I haven't talked to anyone since…."
"Yes. I'd never deny someone…"
"Right," he nodded. He was just a someone to her now, he thought, and it was probably his fault. "Well, okay then…" he opened his door and stepped out into the cold. "Thanks for the ride," he rubbed his hands together and she remembered how soft they felt on her skin. She nodded, afraid her voice would break with emotion if she spoke.
"I'll see you soon, then," he added before shutting the door and climbing the cement steps up to his front door. He looked back for a second, catching her eyes one more time threw her now unrolled window and she swore he sent her the smirk she'd been craving for years.
Yes, she was in trouble. Damon Salvatore had come back into her life just when she'd decided to give him up. If she didn't believe in fate, she wasn't sure what this was. She took a breath to clear her head and reminded herself how dangerous this was.
It would start as a conversation…a therapy session, even. He'd talk and she'd listen, but she wouldn't be unbiased as she was with every other soldier. With every little word he said she'd feel like he was talking about her, about them… and it would only be a matter of time before she turned into the sap all over again. What did she do about Matt now…about their practice? She and Damon were nothing right now but she wasn't sure her heart would let it stay that way.
If there was any chance the man she loved was still inside that body of his, she couldn't deny herself the shot. She'd be smart this time, headstrong. But she'd wanted to be those things the first time around and it hadn't worked. He'd helped her find herself once before. Maybe this was exactly what she needed to realize how strong of a person she'd been this whole time.
They'd both changed in the four years since he'd stepped on that plane.
He was home now, he said, and in a way that made more sense than anything had in years. He may have been physically home for years, but from what he let on, that hadn't meant a thing to him. He wasn't right in his head but the look in his eyes told her he wanted to be. Maybe he really had just gotten home…maybe he hadn't broken his promise at all….
A/N: Another quick thank you for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one. I've got a busy work season coming up and will try to update when I can.