"You know our love would be tragic.
So you don't pay it no mind." –Earned It

{Mystic Falls, Virginia: 1862}

Damon Salvatore was very close to becoming an absolute pest. He was a good person; and along with Stefan had become close companions to Rosemary. But since the passing of her fifteenth birthday his friendliness has begun to surpass into something else entirely. He had always been considerate with her: volunteering to take her home after her visiting the Veritas, carrying parcels for her if he caught her on a shopping venture, even bringing books to read to her when she fell ill. It appeared, that now, he was finding excuses to be around her. He had been bringing trinkets he purchased for her, wanted to take her on carriage rides through town, and asking for a dance at every festivity. She had politely turned down all of it.

Which may have made things worse. It seemed her rejection of his attentions spurred him to try harder. She had to keep telling herself that Damon's persistence was only there because he had never been denied before. He was a handsome man, and came from a respectable family after all. But she remained firm in refusing him. Stefan and her own brother found the situation comical; the two always tried to be near if they thought Damon was bound to come near her. It had become almost a daily ritual for them now. She didn't find it funny at all.

It hurt her to watch Damon's eyes light up with that bit of hope that she would come around to him, only to have to quash them every time. She admitted silently to herself, that his attention was not completely unwanted. The sad truth was she looked forward to seeing him approaching. It meant he had not given up on her. And that made her sick; it was close to sadistic to feel such a thing. It was a selfish frame of mind that had to stop. She knew in her heart she could never keep him. Here was a young man, the highlight of tomorrow, completely whole and unmarred; someone with a complete lifetime before him. She could not damage him with her own transgressions.

Today, Rosemary decided to slip away for a little while. Taking her paint supplies and a small lunch she headed for the old quarry. It was a peaceful place; the locals dubbing it Steven's Quarry. How that name got started, she wasn't too sure, though many of the people here had their own version. The most popular being that a runaway slave named Grigard Steven fled out here, building a hut to camp out in, until he could find a way to help his wife and child escape to the north. No one ever said if he was successful or not. Rosemary liked to think he did. Setting her things on the hut's platform, she had a good view of the water. She sketched the outline for the painting slowly, then taking her strokes in leisurely while she enjoyed the serene surroundings. The falls tumbling down to the rocks, the melody of crickets getting in tune before nightfall, and the birds tweet each other back and forth. It was all very calming. She had contemplated taking a nap, but that was before she heard footsteps approaching. She put her guard up; letting it remain when she saw who it was.

"Why, Miss Graice, what are you doing way out here?"

She put on, what she hoped, was a friendly smile. "Mr. Lockwood! What a surprise. I thought it was such a pretty day that I had to capture a piece of it."

Looking at George Lockwood, she felt a little bad. The young man had always been kind and polite to her, if not entitled. She had nothing against him or his family; but she had enough problems with her own small clan and did not want to become ensnared in what would sooner or later befall the Lockwood's kind. She smelt it from their men when she was first introduced; and since then, had kept her distance.

As of today that dream is denied.

He had come closer and was looking at her, to the quarry's embankment, and back. "I thought you preferred not being around the water."

It was a statement rather than a question, and it made Rosemary's insides whir a bit. "Forgive me, but I do not recall ever telling you such a thing, Mr. Lockwood."

He nodded a small smile forming as he scrutinized her. "No, it was not from you directly. I procured the detail from one of your escapades with the Salvatores. So, am I to take it, they were successful in helping you learn to swim?"

She had already known how to swim. She just never had an aptitude for the water. It wasn't so much the water itself, as what could be lying in it. The conversation was making her uncomfortable, and it took an effort not to huff in annoyance. "If the setting calls for it, I suppose."

Lockwood outright laughed at that; stretching his arms out to present her, their current scene. "It would appear that it does now, so, would you care for a dip?"

It wasn't quite malice in his eyes. It was something more that said, 'I know something. I don't know what it is, but it's there all the same.'

She hitched her skirt, ready to leave. "No, I would not care to. Not with you, so if you'll excuse me."

He lightly grasped her arm. "I could give you some pointers if that's what you need." She searched his face. He wasn't flirting, and she was pretty damn certain he didn't know of his true lineage. So what was this? It looked like he was offering her help. His essence leaned that way, but that could be manipulated. It was like clay, if you could do it right, you could make it into anything you wanted. Emotions were just as easy. She felt he was sincere though, yet all she wanted at the current moment was to be left alone.

"How did you know I was here anyways? Hardly anyone comes out this way, but the children and they're all at the schoolhouse right now. So how did you come to stumble across this way, Lockwood?"

He let go of her, stepping back, and shrugged. "I needed fresh air as well. Perhaps one of the staff told me this place was secluded."

"Or perhaps it was me."

They turned, and Rosemary eased when she saw it was only Damon. Though he did look severely agitated. He stepped in front of her, blocking her from Lockwood. "I believe I told you, George that I was out looking for Miss Graice. That I also said that this was one of the likely spots she would be in. Thank you for aiding me in the search, I'll be escorting her home now."

The two squared off for a few moments. Before Lockwood relented with a quick nod, and skulking off through the clearing. Rosemary went to the hut and gathered her things, feeling Damon's gaze on her. She cleared her throat nervously. "I could have handled the situation just fine. Nonetheless, thank you for your help."

She began to walk away when Damon stepped beside her, keeping pace. "So that's it? Lockwood harasses you, and you're going to leave it all at that? Why were you out here by yourself in the first place?"

She stopped suddenly and turned to him. "I wanted to come for some peace. There shouldn't be anything wrong with me keeping company with myself. I don't know why Lockwood came. Maybe YOU shouldn't be out gallivanting to everyone your suspicions. In addition, Mr. Salvatore, I will kindly ask you not to be spreading my personal confidences with you around town. But, again, thank you for all your help."

Damon quickly stepped in front of her before she could leave. "What do you mean, 'your confidences?' What are you talking about, little bird?"

Rosemary looked up at him. "You and Stefan are the only ones outside my home that know I do not care for the water. So I know it had to be one of you to say something to Lockwood about it. With you blabbering my whereabouts, why not my secrets too?"

Damon took her elbow to keep her from turning away. "I promise you, Rosemary. I would not displace your trust. Not without your consent."

He looked at her squarely, and her brusque nature diminished at his sincerity. "Thank you. I would hope so, because I would never do that to you."

This time he let her walk, but kept beside her. "Where are you heading now?"

"Home, of course. Look above you. After that encounter the day has decided to turn glum."

And it had. As Lockwood's probing progressed the sky had become over casted. The air remained clear and crisp, not chilling or dingy as it often did when it rained in Virginia. Hopefully it meant a quick rain.

"The way I see it, the least you could do is allow me to take you home before the rain takes us."

She whirled around to him, startled by his brashness. Only to relent when seeing his face held in good humor. They rode side by side in silence for a good bit before Rosemary cut the tension. "So you stole your father's carriage?"

Damon scoffed. "I didn't steal it. Partially, it's mine. I am a Salvatore after all, as the carriage plainly marks. And I am going to return it. I just didn't want the driver along with me today."

"Did you want to be alone with your thoughts too?"

"Actually, I was hoping to find a feisty blonde to keep me company."

Rosemary's breath hitched. "Damon…you can't do that. I've told you time and time again it would never work. Nothing can be between us like you want."

They were close to her home, and Damon had slowed the carriage down. His mouth had pressed in a stern frown. "Why? Why can't there be? Why can't you care about me?"

Rosemary clenched her fists, her emotions flaring. "Because I do care, Damon! You deserve someone who can keep you whole and decent. I'm waning, Damon, and there's more to me than I'd rather have known. I don't want to be the one to ruin your life just because there's a shadow over mine."

A few tears had slipped away and she brushed them off her cheek. By this time it was raining lightly, but she could see the skirts of her home. She carefully got out and ran to it. Damon, a step ahead, had galloped the carriage up to the porch. "You can't make that decision for me, Rosemary. I've never felt this way before in my life. I love you, little bird; I want to spend my life with you. I want your compassion and independence. I want your crassness and wit. Sick or well. Rich or poor. I want all of it. All of you, Rosemary Graice. No matter what you're willing to give, I'll gladly take it with open arms. But if, in all honesty, you want me away, I'll do that too. If that's what will truly make you happy, say it and I'll be gone."

She was crying freely now, and sprinted in the house; slamming the door behind her. She heaved with sobs, her heart breaking. It would never work. You know that. All there can be is tragedy. There was another part screaming at her: At the cost of happiness? Fate is not decided. It is not set in stone. Not here. It is created. So make a new destiny. She whimpered. What were the odds though? He'd learn things of her over time and would shun her. But how can you know such a thing when you don't try? He had not shunned you before, why would he now? He's put his heart on the line, shouldn't you? She screamed in frustration at her internal battle and wrenched the door open.

"Damon!"

There was no need to shout. Damon was still there where she left him, and he scooped her to him. She reached out and kissed him fervently. Today did not matter. It would be theirs. That was the amazingly precious thing about time. There was plenty of it. You just had to be willing to find it. Separating to catch their breaths, she felt his smile.

"You never answered me."

She smiled. Hoping her eyes told him everything they needed to, as she kissed him again. Leading him into the house and up to her chambers, thunder crackling in the distance.