The days were long in the bunker, or whatever it was called. Thankfully, Branson had removed him from any missions outside of the walls of their camp. He was strictly a worker, doing grunt work to make him look busy. About twice a week, he'd find Branson and ask her, "Any news?" And she would reply with a "No, Salvatore. I'm sorry," and a saddened look as she went about her business. It was frustrating to the point he really wanted to scream. He didn't understand why he was here. He wanted to be back on American soil. He ached to see his family, Elena. His weeks brightened during the one call he got to make almost each week, and he didn't care what they talked about; as long as he heard her voice for just a few minutes. However long. And now as she sat on the other side, he was surprised to see she wasn't armed with her planning binder or flowers to choose from. She was bright-eyed. Excited for something. And when he'd so curiously asked why, she would breeze past onto another subject.
"I think I have a name, but I'm kind of on the fence," she said as she pushed away an empty bowl of ice cream she'd been eating on since they'd connected. Damon rose a brow as he sat back in the rickety folding chair.
"Mm. That look on your face tells me to be open-minded with this," he chuckled. She sniffed.
"Open-minded," she blew through her lips as she rolled her eyes before going on. "I think I like the name Lorna, for a girl." Damon's face screwed up in some weird expression that was what Elena thought might be disgust.
"Like the Lorna Doone cookies? Babe."
"What? Ugh. No. You just ruined it," she laughed. "I didn't even think of that."
"You're welcome," he smirked. Elena scratched out what he assumed to be a name on the paper beside her, and she ran pen down it. A list? He was ready for this. Granted, he'd thought of a few, but he wasn't totally sure they'd go over with her either. She was braver. She'd throw the weirdest names out there, just to see if he was paying attention he guessed. Lorna had to be one of those names. He opened his mouth to say something, but as he began to speak he heard his name from somewhere outside the tent.
"SALVATORE! I NEED YOU, STAT!" Was that Branson?
"Shit. Babe, gotta go." She looked a little crestfallen that their call was so short, but he really couldn't help it. "I'll call you when I can. I promise."
"I love you," she smiled, that sweet and gorgeous smile that made him weak even three thousand miles away. He grinned back. God, he was ready to be back in Virginia.
"Right back at you, Gorgeous Gilbert." And he shut the laptop, ending their call. He sprung out of the chair and ran out the tent, seeing Branson in the next. She grabbed his arm as their eyes met, flinging him behind her into the sanctuary of the canvas walls. He skidded against the earthen floor, cursing as he made contact with a rest cot. As he got back up, he saw Lexi was baring a rifle. Her face was in a pinched expression, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. She sunk back into the shadows of the tent as Damon cussed at her.
"Shut up. We have a situation on our hands. An enemy man broke into the camp. Don't know where he got it, but he's wearing a US uniform. He's running around camp, and he's armed. I need you to cover me, I'll cover you." She reached into an open crate, fishing out a gun for him. A rifle, by the size of it. /Shit./ Was he ready for that? Really?
"Come on, Salvatore. Sooner we get him out of here, the better." She tossed him the gun. He caught it, but he didn't bother to look at it. He was too busy watching a pack of men thunder down the dusty aisle, baring guns and one even manning a shield, dirt flying up in clouds as they went by. They hooped and hollered like a pack of savages. By no means were they snipers. He looked just as Branson nodded at him, and he returned it as they both slipped out the door. Damon had no clue what he was doing, but he could only try his best, he reminded himself. Other soldiers were here and there, but most were hiding, waiting to see if he would pass in flee, giving them a quick chance to nab him. Damon didn't know what the hell to look for. If he was wearing their uniform, there was no telling who he was amongst any of them. Or if he was even still on campus. Lexi was stiff with alert, moving cat-like down the rows of tents. People were shouting from every direction but you could see none. Damon did what he was told: He stayed a few feet behind Branson, on the alert. He could see why he signed up for this: It was fucking exhilarating. His heart was in his throat, adrenaline singed in his veins, and it was a damn wicked thrill. A round of shots rang out somewhere nearby. They were deafening, and it rattled him just enough to make him hesitate. Someone ran past him, into the left of the intersection of tents where he stood. Lexi was gone, and he was at a loss of what to do. He moved up against the flimsy tent wall. He couldn't hear her, or she was hiding. He'd looked away for a second. Finally, he glanced to the weapon Lexi had armed him with. Heavy, complex. The reason it'd felt so familiar- this was the gun from his nightmares. The one he loaded and shot like it was nothing. He could see his hands changing magazines, moving parts of the gun, but he couldn't do it now. He was like stone in his place against the makeshift edifice. He wanted to squeeze the trigger, just to see how it felt to fire it, if it was as true as the nightmares told him. If it brought as much pleasure. But chills flew over his skin when he heard her. /Carol./
"Salvatore! SALVATORE!"
She didn't finish. She always told him to get down. Where was she? But he had to remind himself. This wasn't then. Damon shook himself out of his stupor as Lexi's voice rang out again. Somewhere some men were yelling almost excitedly, but he wasn't sure if it was in victory or not. He uprooted himself and sprung back into action, turning to follow the sound of his name being called. As he started to run, he saw a soldier coming in his direction. He had a larger gun he'd yet to see here, but it took a moment for it to register. As the troop got closer, Damon could see his features. Ruddy red skin filthy with sand glistened in the sun. Dark eyes filled with anger and determination were fiery as the intruder rose his gun. People raved somewhere-not here, but close. Their voices grew louder, more legible. "Shoot him, soldier!" he heard someone say. "God damnit, blow his head off!" Bullets whirred. He didn't know how they hadn't hit him yet. He was frozen, registering all of it. The guy, the sound of bullets. He felt them hit the ground, the impact reverberating through his boots into the soles of his feet. And he was stuck again in that dream, and this enemy that was trying to take him out now was of the same group. The same initiative. To kill all of them. And Carol was just one of many. That started a fire underneath him.
"You son of a bitch," he growled. Raising his own gun, he let it rest against his shoulder as he started to aim at the man coming closer. So close, he wasn't sure he'd hit him. He didn't know what he was doing, but he would have to make do. But before he could get his finger on the trigger, he was greeted with the metal butt end of his opponent's rifle. It plowed somewhere into his temple and, for a brief second, a metallic taste landed on his lips, but that's all he knew before the camp melted from his vision and he fell into unconsciousness.
"Whoa." Bonnie gaped at Elena's kitchen table. Instead of its normal pin-neat status it was covered in papers and magazines and only God knew what else. Elena sat in the midst of all of it, engrossed. "What are you doing?"
"I got started and didn't stop," Elena shrugged as she tossed a color palette into the trash can nearby. "I was working on baby rooms, and then I had an idea for the wedding. It kind of just went from there."
"I'm here!" a voice rang. From the kitchen door came Caroline, accompanied with a bag of what smelled like breakfast food. She sat in down in front of Elena, who dove into it immediately.
"Thanks, Care," she grinned.
"Cravings?" Bonnie rose a brow in amusement as she sat. She never saw Elena eat breakfast unless mimosas were involved. If even then.
"God, yes. I don't even like sausage, but—" She didn't finish, in way, but she picked up a patty off of a biscuit with a flimsy plastic fork and began to eat. She rolled her eyes in what Bonnie assumed was pure delight, laughing only because she completely understood.
"So why am I here again? And what's all this?"
"Elena wants to ask you something," Caroline beamed as Elena still ate. "And I think it's amazing and awesome and perfect, but she needs your say so first and also your husband. Oh! I've gotta call Stefan, too."
"..what?" Bonnie laughed a little. "What needs my approval and my husband? I don't quite understand." Next to her, Elena wadded up the wrapper of her now-devoured sausage and biscuit and tossed it back into the bag.
"Okay," she started, smiling with excitement almost as much as Caroline was. "So, firstly, I want you two to be my maids of honor." Bonnie and Caroline both lit up.
"What?!"
"You guys are my best friends. I've known you since—ever. It only makes since." She smiled back at both of them, delighted.
"Of course we'll be your maids of honor, 'Lena! Or, I will, at least," Bonnie beamed.
"Me too!" Caroline chimed in. "Oh my god. Everyone's getting married. Where did high school go?" All three laughed, agreeing.
"You're not far, it seems, Care Bear," Bonnie teased. "I've heard about you and Lockwood." She narrowed her eyes playfully, but Caroline blushed.
"Elena!"
"I had to tell her, Care! She was worried you weren't coming around as much."
"Well, either way, it's complicated. Don't get any ideas." She looked away, which implied much differently, but the other girls just exchanged knowing looks and let the subject go.
"So what's the other part of this whole thing, Elena?" Bonnie started.
"Damon and I met at your house. It was the Christmas party. And I wanted to have the wedding there. It's not a lot of people—us, Damon's parents, Matt and Rebekah maybe. I'd like to use your garden. If that's okay with you. And I'd like to do it as a welcome home for Damon."
"What? Elena, that's—"
"Amazing, right? He'd never see it coming," Caroline grinned.
"I'd like Stefan and Jeremy to pick him up at the airport, bring him to the house. We say our vows, and the rest be for him and his last time coming back." Elena was purely excited and she was so invested in this idea, Bonnie was in no position to say no. Because, even though she wasn't really about surprise parties herself, thought this might be the greatest wedding ever.
"Elena, that is—wow. I'll pass it by Jeremy, but I'm 100% sure that he'll say yes." Elena smiled.
"I'm glad to see you so happy, Elena. You deserve it," Caroline smiled. "Not to mention you have a baby coming, that's just the icing on the cake. Which we need to decide on. And a dress. Oh my gosh. There's so much to do!" Elena laughed.
"Calm down, Care. It's the decorations that are the important part. The dinner menu is set. The dress is…questionable, but I'm going to make it work."
"You got a dress? When?" Elena smiled, proud of herself.
"Recycling. But it's only been worn once, and I tried it on a couple of weeks ago and it was fine. As long as the baby doesn't decide to have a growth spurt."
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"
"I just want it to be perfect is all," she smiled. "This is his last return home and I just want it to be the best."