Thanks for those who comment and follow, you are wonderful, wonderful people!

And I've realized that "Labor Of Love" from Michael Giacchino fits in perfectly with this chapter.

THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT


(I own none of the characters)

It was just a feeling.

Stefan tried to tell himself that. Just a feeling. But there was something new and loud inside him that he didn't like, that melted the cold. It was warmth.

He knew what it was, but didn't want to admit it. He had lived through a 5-year old winter, and now came the thought of spring.

It was quiet in the office, only Newton's cradle made a soft clicking noise. He felt so tired. What he wouldn't give to fall asleep and wake into a brighter, more beautiful world.

The doors were thrust open with a bang that made him wince. Stefan managed to glimpse Damon before his brother ran at him in a dark blur and he was slammed away from his chair to the floor. He hadn't even started thinking about protecting himself when with one hand Damon held him down and with the other held a stake to his heart.

A silence ensued. Stefan saw the rage, the poison in Damon's eyes and realized what had happened. For some reason his stomach turned and again that new warmth grew in him. He didn't want it, it made him feel weak.

"Did you put the vervain into the Chardonnay?" Damon hissed. He didn't look much like Stefan's innocent brother. He was more of a demon now. "Have you anything to do with what Katherine did?"

The point of the stake was dug deeper into his chest. Stefan realized Damon was going to kill him if he told the truth. Damon probably didn't even see him as family anymore; after all, he had disowned Stefan.

"No. Damon, calm down. I have no idea what're you talking about! What did Katherine do to you?" he choked. Not to save his own life, but to save that shred of humanity he could still see in Damon. He closed his eyes. This new warmth was certainly melting him, making him crumble and fall apart.

Then he realized it. It was healing him.

Damon's face contorted in rage and hatred and disappointment. He had needed someone to blame to make it better, but with relief Stefan suddenly his life was safe and so was Damon's piece of soul. For the moment.

"If you're lying, Stefan, you're dead."

Damon jumped off him, threw the stake aside and rushed again.

Stefan continued to lie on the floor. It felt like he had taken a breath of fresh air after drowning. It hurt, but it was also wonderful.

He was back.


"Damon?"

Elena froze at the sight of the familiar shape that rushed past her. Her heart seized. She had worried two days, and it was a bittersweet relief to see him alive and well, but it didn't explain anything.

Slowly, the musician turned around.

He was as handsome as always but his bright eyes were dull. She shuddered.

"What happened?" She would have wanted to say I've missed you or You've been on my mind two days now but somehow the sight of this new, even gaunter Damon made her feel small. Cold.

"Nothing," he said bitterly and turned around to leave.

Suddenly the theatre foyer felt too small for the two of them.

"I don't buy it," she said. She wished she could just leave the matter be and comfort herself with the thought that he was OK, but that wasn't enough. That moment with Damon had done something to her, left an imprint. And it wouldn't go away.

Slowly he came back to her until he was close that she could have stretched out her arm and touched his hair. If she would have dared to.

"What do you want, Elena?" He seemed almost tired, and not bitter anymore, just sad. He had been sad before but this was a how new level. She wondered if she would ever see him smile with 100% happiness.

"Dinner. A nice, cozy restaurant and a few words of explanation. That is all."

He blinked, surprised. Then his expression glazed over, he frowned. "Elena, you don't want to go anywhere in the dark with me."

"Why did I then ask? Lets meet under the lime trees of Rue des Arbres tonight at seven."

She left into the auditorium before she could hear his answer. Inside she sank down into one of the satin seats and breathed in happily. For once everything in her life seemed to go the right direction.

Finally.


Rue des Arbres lay quiet and snowy in the dusk. People were taking their evening promenades or going home from work. Ladies in colorful coats and dresses and fur boas, men in dark robes and with hats and walking sticks. It was somehow a harmonious sight, an image that didn't allow anything wrong or bad.

He came. Elena saw him at first simply as a tall, dark shape in the snowy mist, then he appeared fully. She smiled brightly, a lantern in the dark. He gave her a grimace back. All the shadows of the world were clearly over him.

She hooked her arm into his and together they walked through the avenue. She wished she had one of those photo cameras so that she could freeze this image and use it to remind herself of the joy of the late October eve whenever the memory became too faded.

They walked through Paris, Paris that was so calm and gentle this lovely night, and then Damon led her into a small, warm bistro where they sat down in a corner. There was a candle on the table and wild roses that grew on vines on the brick wall.

They ordered food and then sat in quiet. Elena realized Damon wasn't enjoying this as much as she did. His eyes zoomed all over the place, couldn't really focus anywhere and she noticed his fingers were twitching.

"Damon?" she asked. His behavior made her feel nervous, as if he was a bomb that could go off at any second.

"I'll go to the restroom for a second," she said when he didn't listen and left the table, casting worrying glances at Damon.

In the bathroom she sank down on a basket with towels and sighed. She realized what was happening to her and she also understood that it would have no good end. Love – it was completely different from what was told about in all the books and plays and poems of the world. It can be the sweetest of feelings but when you get too addicted to it, it becomes the air you breathe and without it you suffocate.

She looked at herself in the mirror. A pale girl with the wounds healing but the scars left. Perhaps it would leave her destroyed if she hoped for something great and she would be disappointed. But she at least had to try.

Determined now, she hurried out of the bathroom, ready to confront Damon, but he wasn't there. Though this time she wouldn't let him get away that easily. She left her coat by their table, rushed out into the hard winter weather in only a dress. The snowy wind hit her hard but she stood against it and ran through the streets of Paris. For some reason she knew where he had gone.

She was right. He stood at the end of Rue des Arbres. Quietly she went to stand beside him and they both looked at the darkness in front of them.
"What's happening?"

"You don't understand."

"Try me."

And she put her hand into his.


Aw.

Goodbye and good luck,

CheeseSwiss