Caroline holds her gently, patting her right hand lightly on her back as Bonnie chokes on a little titter over her shoulder.
"Sweetie, don't get me wrong, I love you but we haven't seen each other in barely twenty four hours," she says, waiting for her to let her go. Damon looks at the scene with fake indifference, it's so clear even to Caroline's eyes that she can't help but get suddenly worried. "You're scaring me," she adds.
Bonnie let go of her, drying her cheeks with the palms of her white hands.
"Don't be," she says, with a trembling smile on her face, "Everything is going to be alright," she assures her, taking her hands in hers. Damon can only turn his face on the scene and walk to the sitting room.
It's not something he can say often, but he pities Blondie like he never did before.
"I recognize the beginning of a very miserable conversation," he hears her answer as Bonnie pulls her gently into the room. He fills up three glasses with the strongest scotch he has and tries to detach himself from what is happening.
"So, brace yourself," he murmurs, uncaring of the fact that their enhanced hearing will give him away. After all, it's kind of a compassionate sign on his part.
"Elena…" she begins warily, staring at the three glasses on the coffee table, only to later move her eyes back and forth from Elena's wet face to Damon's tense back.
Damon turns on his heels, making an intrusive sound, like he's imitating those buzzer ones on TV quiz shows. "That's the first error, the direction tells me you have two more attempts before you're officially out!"
Elena rolls her eyes at his words, glaring at him as she crosses her arms on her chest and he pretends not to see. The scene is incredibly familiar and yet not at all. She can't remember Elena ever looking at him like that, like she's about to give him a piece of her mind and a kick in the ass, not even when she was the Elena she knew, the Elena she envied, the Elena that deserved Stefan.
"What does that mean?" she asks perplexed, as she sits on the sofa. "You're not Katherine, are you?" She's quite sure of it, even though Katherine can disguise herself pretty well if she wants to.
Another buzzer sound from Damon, "Second attempt failed," another surly look from Elena, which looks awkwardly alien to her face.
"You're not helping," she protests, trying to maintain her patience.
"I'm not trying to," he piques, turning towards her for the first time. "We got you for that, remember? People will light candles in front of your picture asking for your intercession! " He rebuts with a kind of vehemence Caroline never saw him use with Elena.
"I can't do this if you won't stop being a jerk," she says, keeping her tone at bay.
"A jerk is what I am, and the patron saint of losers is what you are," he accuses her. "I'd say we are at an impasse here."
"Guys, guys, stop it," Caroline protests, "As funny as it is, I'm not here to admire your unreleased sexual tension. If you called me to play the couple counselor, please, call someone else," she says ready to stand before Damon stops her rudely.
"Sit down and drink. You'll need it."
Caroline wants to tell him to go to hell but Elena's tense face gives her reason to believe him.
"You're not acting like yourself…" she says, watching her friend with apprehension.
Elena's bitter smile makes her quiet, "I know," she replies, quietly. "Who do I act like?"
It is getting unnerving, really, but Caroline decides to humor her. Observes her as she stands, her back seem to graciously bear an invisible weight, she ignores Damon step in her direction – like he's getting the first row to a performance without repetitions.
"Like someone that calls Damon out on his crap, which is, sadly, usually not like you," Caroline says offering a satisfied smile. That's something she's been expecting from Elena for a long time, because only Bonnie had the guts to, and only Bonnie ever got a real reaction from him.
"Like someone…" the words die on her lips because this must strange behavior be induced by the trauma of losing her and it's wrong, and yet Damon is not indulging her like he usually does. Whatever they're trying to imply it just can't be, because it simply not possible.
Caroline reaches her hand out to take the glass full of amber liquid and takes a gulp of it, before putting it back on the coffee table. She raises her eyes, trying to look at her with lucidity, because if her friend is deluding herself then she must be the wise one.
Bonnie was the wise one, and she never asked her how to even begin being that. She thought she would always be there for her, like when her parents decided to divorce, and her kitten died, and she got dumped by her first boyfriend. Not even Elena understood what it felt like to be abandoned by everyone you care about, until much later, when loss had hit her, too.
"Lena…" she says, but the girl standing in front of her shakes her head and offers her a sad, bittersweet smile, and Caroline can't hold back the tears.
She doesn't have the courage to call her name, for fear she will contradict her, but her hands tremble a little on her lap.
"You can't really…"
"I like how you decorated our room at the dorm, but I think a touch of yellow would do wonders," she says, talking slowly so that her voice won't break in the effort. "You can keep my lace top. I would have let you have it, anyway. It suits you better than it did me."
Caroline stares at her as her eyes fill up with tears. Her mind can't process why Elena sounds so much like Bonnie, how she knows the things that pierced her brain since her death, but she really does not care to know right now.
"I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye," the girl offers weakly.
Caroline does not even hear her, only launch herself into her arms, hugging her as tight as she can. "I missed you so much."
Damon has seen this scene before, and he doesn't really care to stay around for the encore.
Bonnie makes her friend sit down again, placing herself right next to her, to explain the situation they're in but she seems unable to truly concentrate.
"The fact is-"
"God I knew it, I knew that you couldn't go just like that," Caroline says, the smile on her face so wide her skin could actually tear any moment.
"Caroline, I'm not-"
"Well, okay there's the fact that you're occupying the wrong body… but that's fixable, right? You can do anything!" She's talking a mile a minute, looking everywhere else but at Elena's face while she's planning their future life as college roommates all over again, and the dress Bonnie will have to wear as her maid of honor at her wedding.
Bonnie must cup her face to make her look at her straight in the eyes and tell her, "I'm not here to stay."
The silence is deafening for a moment, and then she can hear Caroline's shallow breathing, see her eyes blinking like there's a jammed mechanism inside that can't take in the new information. The only way Bonnie has to go past this before the mental breakdown is to shift her attention on something else immediately.
"I'm here to help Stefan," she says, knowing that something inside Caroline will push her to react, catch up with her, because it's Stefan, and even if she has put away her wedding scrapbook and tear away the June page from her calendar, he's still Stefan.
"What does that mean?"
She tries to keep the story short; she doesn't need to give her time to contemplate his loneliness, count the number of times he has died alone waiting for someone to notice his absence, to feel his mute screaming.
"He's not reacting well to us," she says, before correcting herself. "Well, he's not reacting well to Damon and Elena, at least."
Caroline nods repeatedly, like she's reassuring herself she can do this, even though a part of her I scared to see Stefan Salvatore – the handsome gentleman she knows – broken and wild, chained to a solitude that's now – God only knows how firmly - inside his head.
Ste stands up from the sofa, relived to have been a cheerleader because she's learned how to impose herself and going past anyone's desire, because that means that Stefan will never push hard enough for her to leave his side. Caroline straightens her t-shirt – which is not even crinkled – and Bonnie must keep herself from cracking a smile reading the black italic, Vamp it up!
"Blood," she says, "He needs to eat, right?" she asks, looking at Elena's face and then at Damon, who's been standing with his back on them for at least ten minutes, just looking outside the window. "God, he's been starving for months, hasn't he?" but she doesn't need an answer for that question.
Out of all the things she wants to do – yell, tell her dead best friend that she needs to resuscitate for good, cry, run to Stefan – she rushes to the kitchen of the Salvatore boardinghouse to warm some blood for Stefan.
Bonnie is watching her. At least, she thinks it's Bonnie watching her. She' doesn't even look over her shoulder, worried about getting more confused, before asking, "You're not going to… go away while I'm with Stefan, right?"
"I…" her pause gives her the answer, but she continues, "It's tiring to stay into someone else's body. But, maybe I can come back again if you need me, and if she'll let me."
"You can use mine!" she offers, before she can even think about what that means. "I mean, of course we need you… yes, you can use my body. After all, we've always been inseparable," she says with a smile.
"Thanks."
#
She's careful not to waste a single drop of it as she walks up the stairs with the full jar and a clean glass, carefully walking to him as her brain searches for an opening line, like she's about to present a TV program. What can she tell him? He's always been the one with the right words to say to make her feel safe, secure, and it was the truth. He barely had to say anything at all for her to feel that way. The way he looked at her was usually just enough.
She knocks on the door and receives no reply.
"Don't bother covering up if you're naked. Me and my camera will do our best not to mind. I have a Facebook album to update, after all!" she says, trying to hear his reaction inside the room. There's not even a breath she can sense and it makes her panic slightly but she forces herself to stay calm. He's always been amused by anything she didn't do on purpose.
It's no different, he's no different, she repeats to herself as she enters the room.
Caroline cannot find his eyes as he sits under the open window, face pressed to the wall, probing the wallpaper. He's thinner, paler, if that' even possible and her hands tremble.
She cannot stop herself, "Stefan," she calls him; her voice is faint, dismayed.
"Stefan," she says, again, putting the jar and the glass on night stand, "Why don't you take a glass of blood?" she asks, pouring one for him.
He doesn't reply, just sits there, tapping his fingers on the wall, feeling and hearing the vibrations. What did he feel or hear buried underwater all those months? Did he think of how selfish they were, living their lives without a care in the world while he was dying?
"Aren't you hungry?" she asks, "It's warm, you should try some."
"I met Silas," she says, and the tapping stops for a moment, before it becomes faster.
"I was wrong," she says, walking to the window to sit right next to him, pressing her cheek against the wall to mimic his position and finally looks into his eyes. They are more gentle and wounded that they ever were and it's almost a joy.
"I should have realized that something was off. If it was the other way around you would have known that it wasn't me, right?" she asks. Her teary eyes startle and she forces herself to calm down. "I missed you, isn't that strange?" She shakes her head slightly, that little is possible in the position she's in. "I mean, of course I would miss you, but he was there, in your place, and I missed you still, you know," she admits, "So maybe I knew. Which makes it all worse, doesn't it?"
He looks into her eyes, at her sullen mouth and then back.
"I'm going to find him and I'm going to use his eyeballs to play pool, and you know how great I am with pool," she says in a rush, "And you're much more handsome, by the way, I don't know how I could be fooled even for a moment. I swear, I'm disappointed with myself, after years and years of observing hot boys, studying the radius curvature of their biceps and graduating in the Art of falling for the guy that won't fall for me I should have known, but I was so stupid!"
Stefan's expression start s looking like the one she knows. She almost expects for him to tell her to look at him, look at his face, because she's his best friend and his best friend is not stupid. Maybe only on occasion. But he doesn't. Still, his hand slides against the wall and then reaches out for her. His fingertips press lightly on her cheeks and she has to hold back the tears, once again.
He's not eager to touch water of any kind right now.
She lets him feel her skin under his fingertips, the warmth of her body radiating towards him like it wants to envelop him. Lets him remember that life is warm, sometimes.
#
She's holding the handrail, still looking up to where Caroline has disappeared a few minutes ago, waiting to hear Stefan's screaming. It is oddly quiet but she tries not to worry about it. Everything seems so much like a big deal when you're sunk into life, but she's only a temporary guest now and there's this awareness somewhere inside that everything will be alright. She must trust that feeling.
"Is it true? What you told Caroline…"
His voice comes from behind her, but she doesn't turn around. If she does, she will never detach herself from this life. She's been a fool, thinking of herself like barely a means for her friend's happiness, but even more of a fool she's been, being blind to the reason why she can't ask him to let her go anymore.
"Yes," she says, "It's uncomfortable for Elena too," she explains, knowing that Elena's wellbeing will convince him faster than anything else.
"No, I was talking about the coming back part," he says, and she turns around instinctively, to look at his face. His leaning against a wall, arms crossed on his chest. His head tilted to the side with a twitch as he ogles her like he's weighing her.
"I could, but there's no need for me to, anymore," she says.
"You're forgetting about Silas," he reminds her, standing straight.
"I'm not, I didn't," she replies, almost tired, "But even if I could take care of that, there will always be a new enemy, a new danger. You know that, too. If it all depended on that I would never die."
"Okay," he sighs with a shrug and she thinks he finally understood, but he adds, "Don't ever die, then."
She just stares at him and Damon grins, well aware that that's not an option. Bonnie thinks that's a better goodbye that she could actually hope for. It would have hurt too much to see people ignoring her absence or despair at her departure.
"One month at most and I won't even remember your name," he says, looking away as he sinks his fists into the pockets of his jeans.
"Please," she protests, crossing her arms on her chest, "I'm telling you, you'll get bored out of your mind and you'll regret me," she tells him, almost copying his own words from days ago.
"You should say goodbye," he rushes to say, "To everyone. Make it right. You own them that much, don't you think?"
It's an argument that always works on her, appeal to her conscience, to her honor, to her tender heart, and he didn't lose his touch, so he grabs the last shred of opportunity he has to hold her back.
"I'll hold a party. After all, I only need myself and some alcohol to make it a delightful occasion," he says, making her roll her eyes. "There will be Donovan, vampire Barbie, maybe my brother if I can find a good sartorial straightjacket. Doesn't that sound like a wonderful idea?" he asks with a theatrical expression on his face.
"How much rest in peace do you need before coming again as my girlfriend?" The question sounds more ambiguous then he had intended to, or maybe not, "A week?"
"Three days," she says, knowing, "Just… three days," she repeats, serious and final.
He's momentarily taken aback realizing that that lapse of time might actually be all that's left for her.
"That's all?" he asks, ginning and bearing it "Three days?"
It's not a question meant to be answered to, and she doesn't. She only tells him, "I'll see you."
It gets on his nerves, how easily she can decide to quit it, how badly he can take it. He wants to ask her what the hell it means I'll see you around when in fact he's never going to see her again, because even now there's Elena's face in front of him, though his freaking heart can't see her, but he can't ask Bonnie because he sees his girlfriend's body collapse and fall.
He rushes to her, takes her by the shoulders as she pushes back the hair that fell on her face.
"What happened?" he asks, uncertain. She blinks, and her doe eyes look up to him. Damon pulls back slowly, as he recognizes his own disappointment.
"It's me," she says, "She's gone."
"You're back… that's good," he says, feeling angry at himself because he can't sound convincing enough to reassure himself. Elena is breathless and disconcerted by the experience. She leans into him, slipping her arms over his shoulders to find herself in the feeling of their near bodies. His hand on her back is barely a dead weight as his looks in front of him with empty eyes.
Bonnie sits quietly on the last step of the flight of stairs, leaning forward as much as her bent legs will let her, to look closely at Damon's face, for no reason but to look at him, at the blue eyes she never knew could be so expressive, at the rigidity of his jaw, at the stolidity of his perfect face, which looks more that of a statue every time he's frustrated and feels powerless.
She's been foolishly blind for so long, but now she sees him.
#
Note: The Stefan/Caroline will take some space, and I will have to give you less bamon in the next chapter but I will try to make up for the lack of iquantity with the quality. I wanna take this chance to thank and dedicate this chapter to damonselvatore. Thank you so very much.