Title: Back in the Moment
Author: Cherub Dawn
Paring: Damon/Elena
Rating: M
Spoilers: Season One
Disclaimer: All content belongs to its rightful owners as do the characters and insinuated pairing.
Summary: Damon dreaded his time in the confederate army. Being away from Katherine for so long was heartbreaking. But then he saw her face among their many nurses, and suddenly life wasn't unfair anymore.
Chapter Two
Disappointment. It was practically his middle name.
If it was not for the fact that his father was a traditional man and his mother had a heart, he would almost be certain that would be his name. Regardless, it was the one thing he was always seen as. Giuseppe ensured that.
Growing up, Damon was always intrigued as to why people looked at him differently in comparison to his brother. They looked at him, he looked at him, as though he was shrouded in a murky fog; his father's eyes his only visible feature.
It haunted him for twenty-four years.
It haunted him each time he glanced into a mirror and saw his icy blue eyes. His father's icy blue eyes. Damon Salvatore was doomed to be a disappointment. And as strongly as he refused to admit, he was well aware of the reason.
Because I'm not Stefan.
Despite this, he had always loved his brother. It was his duty, was it not? But now, as he rode onwards to the army camp of Northern Virginia, he focused on his greatest current priority; his new duty and whatever stood waiting for him.
Or rather, whoever.
Taking a final moment to toy with the vial placed comfortably in his pocket, Damon trudged on through the mud until he reached Shenandoah Valley, sighing as the echoes of their artillery training echoed through the woods. Gone was Katherine Pierce, as he went onwards for war.
Elena gasped for the mercy of air, running to a stand-still to Lenore's post. The Medical Corps facilitations were separated into spaced camps, each with masses upon masses of injuries since the new soldiers had joined the civil war.
Due to her lack of experience, Elena had been informed by Mason, the Major, not to work with the severe injuries, however, it didn't mean she could not befriend the nurses who did. Lenore Braithwaite, was one of them.
She was flawless. Her glossy blonde hair flowing in streaming ringlets framing the Cheshire orbs of her eyes in the utmost perfection. Elena herself had already seen many besotted. However, that's what she loved most about Lenore.
There were so many watching her every day, yet she was ever faithful to her husband, not by duty, but by unmitigated love. The personification of her adoration shown perfectly in her eyes. It was admirable, if not adorable.
But currently, there was something else blocking the warmth of her gaze. Fear.
"Lenore? What happened?"
She toyed with her hands in angst. "Follow me."
She nodded slowly, not needing to be asked twice. In the short time she had known her, Elena had seen Lenore to be a cautious, but a warm, loving woman, whose heart has conquered her every thought. However, her current fragile appearance spoke words her heart couldn't even think. "There was a severe injury on the field last night, a soldier-"
"Nurse Lenore, may I speak with Nurse Elena for a moment?" he questioned, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Lenore blinked, glancing towards her topic of discussion. "This situation is almighty, Major Lockwood. Could it be under any other circumstance-"
"We won't be a coon's age, Nurse Lenore. I give you my word." He murmured, leading Elena to the exit as she looked back to her original companion, her warm nature shrouding itself in an abyss of the black. Her lips twitched as Mason escorted her out one of the many sections of the medical corps, anxiety pulsing through his veins and that all too strong familiarity running through hers as the memory of Matt Donovan's confession entered her mind.
It wasn't until he led her to his own territory that she realized how strong the sense of déjà vu was overcoming her and how out of place she was, in a man's world.
Turning his back to her gaze, the Major faced the battlefield, his proud stance almost successful in shielding his all-overish attitude from her. Almost. "How long have you been with us now, Nurse Elena?"
She couldn't bring herself to move, the tips of her toes rooted to the ground and away from the mud. She only relaxed her hands into a professional and emotionless posture. "Three weeks, Major Lockwood." She looked back to the Medical Corps headquarters. "It has been a life changing experience." She murmured, returning her gaze to Mason as his posture straightened, the anxiety fading.
"And how do you like it?" he queried, taking back his original place opposing her. Elena squirmed slightly, mentally, under his intense gaze.
Jenna had always taught her not to express weakness, despite what the other gender believe, women too have a right, she had always told her. She sighed. Jenna had always been ahead of her time, she missed that more than anything. "I cannot kick, Major Lockwood. It would be impolite of me."
Mason frowned instantly, stepping closer to her figure. "I suspicion by this you are not content, Miss Elena. Am I correct?"
She buckled, turning away from his gaze and back to Lenore's camp, and then to hers. It was not that she didn't enjoy working with the minor injurers. The majority of them were cuts and bruises. Rarely flesh wounds. She preferred the idea that she would not experience the darkness of war at hand like Lenore; the blackness of death. Let alone be responsible for it, for not having the ability to prevent it.
However, as the youngest of the nurses, a part of her craved the responsibility, and make a fist as something those of her age and gender could not do. But from Jenna's many lifelessons, she knew not to ask for more. But that never stopped her before.
She shook her head preparing to step back towards her and Lenore's conversation. "It does not matter."
However, he was too quick, stepping before her so she almost stepped into his body. "I insist, Miss Elena. Do tell. Alaric sent you to me in trust that I would take care of you. Let me fix your flint." He teased softly. Elena looked down at her hands, a feeling of fear overcoming her as she realized her hands were now in his. She daren't move, feeling his gaze burning the surface of her skin. "Major, I-"
"Please, call me Mason." Her eyes widened instantly, her mind flashing back constantly to that night with Matt Donovan, déjà vu stinging her senses. She had to get out. She had to get away from him. "I-"
"Elena!"
They instantly turned to the source of the voice as a slender blonde hurried towards them, her pale fingers clutching her dress through the dirt. "Elena!" Mason sighed in frustration moving away from her in distraught. She ran a hand through her hair, her brain stilled slightly in momentary relief.
"Caroline."
The blonde drew to a stop instantly, an embarrassed smile present on her face. "Elena," But there was something else. Something she couldn't recognize. "Lenore needs to see you. Immediately."
Elena looked to Mason. "I apologize. I cannot keep her waiting." She held her dress above the mud as he nodded in defeat, stepping forward towards her. "Of course, Miss Elena."
But he was a stubborn man, she realized when he took her free hand in his and grazed its back surface with a soft, lingering kiss. She blinked, before turning to face Caroline, whose flustered appearance almost matched her own.
"Lead the way, Caroline." She stammered.
Mason smiled softly watching as the two women swayed back into camp, their plain black dresses accenting much more than they should. He couldn't deny the fact that Elena Sommers intrigued him, more than she should. But seeing her now, again, after their first encounter ten years ago, he started to notice small features he had never seen so beautifully before.
He noticed her eyes had not lost their playful glow, as a matter of fact, they were brighter if that was even possible. Her hair had grown in length, and in texture: like liquid satin. Her body had matured wonderfully, even without the inclusion of a corset.
And lastly, Mason noticed she was no longer perfectly describable by the word adorable. But beautiful, seductive, flawless; they matched her perfectly. His nephew was right. Over the years, Elena Sommers had changed. She had grown up. And he had never been more awestruck.
Her eyes shuttered to a close as she followed Caroline further into camp, the sound of painful groans and splintering screams a soundtrack she couldn't help but hear.
Elena always dreaded walking through to Lenore's post. The agony and injuries she worked with everyday made Elena's rare flesh wounds completely incomparable. Hell, Elena's work made a woman's dress routine appear more painful. As a matter of fact, it probably is.
Passing through the greater injuries, Elena turned her concentration back to Caroline.
She hadn't known her for long but it already seemed like she knew so much. From the past few weeks, she had learned that at her current age- twenty one, she was very traditional. In other words, incredibly predictable.
A fellow buckskin, Caroline was a woman who believed it to be a duty to be flawless in appearance, regardless of attire. Even in the blunt simplicity of her nurse's uniform, she appeared to be oddly slicked up. But the soldiers certainly weren't complaining. She made a habit of acting chirk whenever possible, claiming the camp was too 'depressing'.
She was neither a foe nor a favourite of Elena's, but she admired her determination to make a fist in society.
However, as she observed her now, walking towards Lenore with an emotionless face, she noticed that what she saw outside, that unrecognizable something, was still there; still present in her bright blue eyes. More so, its present seemed stronger.
And as she walked on towards Lenore, she noticed, as she passed every other nurse in this department, it was present in their eyes too. And then she saw Lenore again, whose presence in her was the strongest of all. Elena blinked, her mind reminding herself of earlier, before her conversation with the Major. Fear. They were all afraid.
But of what?
It has been three weeks since he had joined the Confederacy; entering a life of dedication, fury and fight.
Violence was everywhere in this world- an ever present spirit. And in a way, he enjoyed it. The call of war, the feeling of power, the rush of adrenaline. It was like nothing he had ever known. But then, he would reach his hand beneath his pillow and retrieve the object which had kept him strong for the past three weeks.
It was only small. To any other, it would be worthless but to Damon, it meant the world. Or at least, what it resembled. A photograph of the lovely Katherine Pierce; shielded by his pillow but forever in his heart. And then he remembered why he couldn't wait to leave. She is waiting for me. And he couldn't keep her waiting.
"Salvatore! Eye on the Target!"
He blinked, in preparation for concentrating back on the target except he couldn't. Because for a minute, he swore he saw her. He had to be mistaken. There was no possibility Katherine, of all people, would be here. Let alone in something as ordinary as that monochromatic attire. She was too lively, too enchanting.
No, Katherine wouldn't be seen dead wearing what this woman was wearing. Yet, he couldn't believe his eyes were deceiving him.
It is Katherine. She is here!
He knew he wasn't mistaken. But then, a man, the Major if he was not mistaken, turned away from watching the practice and approached her. Damon's breath hitched. He was going to kiss her. He watched intently as their proximity shortened, closer, and closer he approached, and his hands clasping hers. The strings to his heart tugged furiously. No, Katherine. Please. No...
"Salvatore!"
He jumped, turning to face the source of the voice and groaned silently. He had interrupted practice, which only meant one thing.
Flagellation.
Damon cursed beneath his breath before nodding and turning his concentration back to target practice, but not before glancing back to where he saw the Major and she. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he turned back to face the target. She didn't kiss him. Then his punishment no longer mattered. They didn't kiss. But his confusion still taunted him. Why was she here? Was there something wrong? Was she here to see him?
There was only one way to find out.
