There are times when silence speaks volumes. Stefan reflected on this as he lingered in the door to the study, watching her. He'd stood on the same spot so many times over the past week he was surprised his shoulder hadn't worn a groove into the ancient wood. His hand slipped away from the doorframe, the soft brush of the wood grain disarmingly comforting.
The Salvatore house had been constructed out of the strongest oak trees in Mystic Falls. Nearly two centuries had passed since it was built, yet the boards and panels that rooted the structure to its foundations held fast. This house had seen its share of disasters, both natural and supernatural, and weathered them all. Stefan took strength from that, reminding himself that, much like his house, his relationship with Elena was built on a strong foundation. They would get through this. They would survive. He just had to be patient.
She sat on the window bench, legs tucked under her and a weathered book open on her lap. Her eyes lingered on the yard beyond the windowpane, her mind far away from Mystic Falls. Was she thinking about him? Stefan pushed the thought from his mind and replaced it with another that was easier to chew over - New Orleans had changed her. There were moments when she made an effort to act like her old self, but she hadn't been the same since their return. She'd been withdrawn, aloof, unwilling to talk about any of it… He could feel the conflicted emotions coming from her, see them in her eyes and the soft downward turn of her mouth, and he felt helpless to console her. But it hadn't stopped him from trying.
Sucking in a soft breath, he rapped lightly on the door to catch her attention. Her head snapped up and an automatic smile curved her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. He hid the pain her indifference caused behind a warm smile and stepped into the room. Casually crossing his arms in front of his chest, he leaned against the large writing desk at its centre. Elena gently closed the book in her lap, her hands unconsciously caressing the aged leather binding, and looked at him expectantly.
"Caroline's here to see you," he informed her. "She's waiting downstairs."
"Oh, that's right. I forgot she was coming over today." She suffered an embarrassed smile and reluctantly set her book aside.
"I could always ask her to come back tomorrow," he offered, though the thought of Elena isolating herself more than she already had left him uneasy.
To his relief, she shook her head and dismissed the suggestion with a wave of her hand. "No, it's fine. Besides, you know Caroline – she hates being stood up."
Stefan grinned at the image of the perky blonde downstairs impatiently tapping her pump against the hardwood floor. She was right about that – there were few things Caroline disliked more than being made to wait.
"I'd better get down there," Elena sighed, sliding off the window bench. "Thanks for letting me know."
"Sure, any time."
She made it to the door before he stopped her, his feet planted firmly between her and the hall.
"I'm fine," she insisted, crossing her arms defensively.
"Are you?"
His question hung in the air between them as his hand lifted to gently brush a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear. There was an aching familiarity about the way she allowed him to touch her. The simple gestures she permitted him, hurt far more than any outright rejection could. Her eyes closed at the soft touch of his hand against her cheek and he planted a kiss atop her head. Then the moment was over and she pulled away. She gave him a lingering look and released his hand before heading down the stairs.
He watched her go, his fingers twitching against the burning warmth of her skin that lingered on them. With the sound of the girls greeting one another echoing through the stairwell, he found himself drawn back to the study and the book she'd left behind. Hovering by the table next to the window seat, he glanced down at the worn cover, the leather tattered and peeling at each corner, and slowly opened it. The title Pride & Prejudice glared up at him from the first thin yellowed page, bringing back sharp memories of the brother he hadn't seen since New Orleans. How had Damon managed to get under her skin so completely? Stefan frowned and slowly replaced the cover. His fight to secure her heart, it seemed, was far from over.
oOo
Caroline examined the overgrown back garden through the living room's floor to ceiling windows. With all the money at the Salvatore's disposal, had they never thought to hire a gardener? Turning away from the veritable forest of weeds and scraggly bushes, Caroline directed her attention to the rest of the room. She cast a disapproving eye at the heavy curtains, dark wood panelling and oriental rugs. The whole place was in dire need of a makeover! A room like this could really shine with a woman's touch. Just a few adjustments here or there and the Salvatore mansion would be ready to join the rest of them in the new Millennium. Maybe now that Elena was spending more time here, she could encourage Stefan to make a few touch ups. It might be exactly the sort of distraction she needed to get her mind off things – mainly, all things Damon.
"Caroline?"
Elena called to her but held back, lingering in the hall. Caroline blinked at her in confusion until she felt the warmth of the sun against her arm and remembered that she'd left the curtains wide open. With a sharp gasp, she quickly snapped them shut.
"I completely forgot, Elena. I'm so sorry…!" she apologized, looking mortified.
"Hey, don't worry about it." Elena dismissed the incident with a wave of her hand and enveloped her friend in a warm hug.
"How are you holding up?"
A soft sigh escaped Elena's lips and they sank down together onto the soft leather couch. Seeing the concern that furrowed her friend's brow, she offered a half-hearted shrug.
"It was hard at first but I'm…adjusting. I'm doing better now."
Caroline studied her with a speculative look. Elena was not fine and hadn't been since the morning she'd woken up a vampire. Her impromptu trip to New Orleans with Damon of all people hadn't helped matters either. In fact, she was certain it'd made them worse.
"You know if you ever want to talk about it I'm here, right? Any time, day or night. Like the Ghostbusters or something…" Caroline giggled nervously at her own silly joke, but soon sobered up. "I'm your friend, Elena. I just want to help."
Elena smiled softly at her and answered, "I know. You've always been a good friend to me, Caroline."
Caroline waited a beat, hoping that this might be the moment Elena chose to open up to her. Instead the silence became pronounced until it bordered on awkward and then she found herself blurting out the first thing that came to mind, simply to fill the void.
"I saw Jeremy today."
The moment the words left her lips she regretted them. Family was a bit of a sore subject at the moment. Elena had been avoiding hers for the sake of protecting them from herself. It hadn't been easy to keep them in the dark and was getting more difficult with each passing day. They couldn't avoid the issue forever, especially if they had any intention of keeping up the charade that Elena was a regular teenage girl.
Elena's expression was both anxious and eager as she sat up and demanded to know what her brother had said.
"He's been asking questions," Caroline replied hesitantly before getting to her feet. "I don't know how much longer I can keep him away. You should go see him, just so he knows you're okay. It's been-"
"I know how long it's been," she snapped, a little too abruptly, "but I can't go home. You know I can't! "
"When I first turned I was terrified that I'd hurt my Mom or do something that would give me away. But I got through it, and you will too. You just have to have a bit of faith in yourself. Remember what we talked about before? About learning how to control it? Maybe if we practice a bit more…"
"No!" Elena's sharp rebuke brought any further protests to an abrupt halt. Caroline lifted a disapproving brow and Elena took a moment to collect herself before adding more calmly, "I'm not in control. I can't put them at risk until I know for sure that I can handle it."
"Fine," Caroline sighed, "continue to hide yourself away from the world and everyone who cares about it. It's obviously been working well for you so far."
Elena glowered at her friend's biting words. Getting to her feet, she paced restlessly across the living room floor and raked her hands through her hair. Stopping by the wet bar, she set out a glass and automatically reached for the bottle of Booker's. It was Damon's favourite, a strong single barrel bourbon that felt like fire going down and then filled your stomach with a pleasant warmth. Her hand lingered, fingers caressing the smooth glass. Where are you? she thought before impulsively reaching for the decanter filled with Wild Turkey and splashing a healthy amount in her glass.
She hadn't heard from him since New Orleans. All her texts had gone unanswered, her calls forwarded to voicemail. Whatever he was doing, he didn't want her involved and it unnerved her. What was he up to? Knowing how he operated, she realized it couldn't be anything good. She couldn't shake the anxiety curling in her gut or the concern for his wellbeing that permeated her every waking moment - not with anger, certainly not with books, not even with endless glasses of bourbon.
Damon had gotten under her skin, far deeper than she ever could have anticipated. And now he was gone, and she stuck behind to pick up the pieces and rebuild the life she'd once had – with Stefan, with her family and her friends. It was overwhelming. Until now she'd been avoiding it, avoiding everyone, including Stefan, but she knew she couldn't keep it up forever. At some point she'd have to move forward from the stagnant space she'd carved out for herself but there was one monumental fear standing in her way.
"How did you do it?" she asked softly, glancing up to meet Caroline's scrutinizing gaze. "When you killed that guy, how did you get past it? I've tried everything but…" She finished with a helpless shrug and felt tears well up in her eyes.
That was the crux of her problem – she had no way to conquer the insurmountable fear that it would happen again. And worst of all was the knowledge that she'd liked it. Feeling a life extinguish beneath her own hands, knowing that she had complete control over whether another being lived or died, was exhilarating. That fleeting moment was the most alive she'd ever felt and part of her desperately wanted to feel it again… and again… and again.
That was what terrified her and kept her up at night. It'd felt so good. She'd had a front row seat to Stefan's struggle to control that very same urge, and he had a hundred times the self control she did. Caroline had managed it somehow, but Elena knew she was nowhere near the A-type perfectionist that she was. How could she possibly do it?
Caroline was at her side in a heartbeat, offering a sympathetic look and a warm embrace.
"It took time," she answered gently, her tone soothing. "A lot of time. The fear that it'll happen again is always there," she confessed, pulling back to meet her gaze, "but you move on. You go about your life and each day that you face that fear and conquer it you feel stronger. Staying here like this is only letting that fear have power over you – don't let it."
She knew Caroline was right, but a voice inside her head scoffed at how easy she made it sound. Go out there and face your fear, stare it down and conquer it! If it were that simple she would have done it ages ago.
"Any tips you want to throw my way?" she joked, putting her glass to her lips. The Wild Turkey was strong and numbed her tongue. As she set the empty glass down, she found herself wishing she'd chosen the Booker's instead.
"Well," Caroline hazarded with a mischievous look, "distractions help – specifically the normal teenage life variety. Didn't you ever wonder why I decided to head the Dance Committee?"
"If this is your way of conning me into joining the Dance Committee…"
"Please," she scoffed, "I have enough minions for that and if there are ever not enough I can always compel some more. I was thinking something more along the lines of a football game."
"A…football game?"
"Sure, why not?" Caroline was on a roll now, talking a mile a minute. "Matt and Tyler are both playing and I know Jer is gonna be there. It'd be just like old times, before all this vampire craziness entered our lives. You and me and a bunch of cute football players."
Elena hesitated, hearing the distinct voice of warning echo through her mind. There'll be hundreds of people filling the stands, hundreds of potential victims or witnesses, it said. Caroline didn't give her a chance to dwell on the "what if"s and "maybes".
"Come on," she pleaded. "It'll be fun! You need to get out and remember that your life can still be somewhat normal."
Elena opened her mouth to object and Caroline held up a finger. "Plus, I'll be at your side the entire night. I mean it - I won't leave you alone again. I made that mistake last time..."
The fleeting guilt that crossed her friend's features was hard to miss and Elena felt herself giving in. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad… And if Jer and the others were there, a brief chat would help keep up the façade that everything was fine.
Offering a tight-lipped smile, she conceded defeat. "Okay, fine."
"Yes!" Caroline squealed, clapping her hands with delight. "You won't regret this, I promise."
Elena prayed she was right.
oOo
The streets of Seattle were rainy slick and vacant. Those with a place to go had tucked themselves indoors and out of the storm. Those who didn't made do with what shelter they could find. Damon sat atop a park bench, shielded from the worst of the rain by the broad leafy branches of an ancient oak. He'd been sitting there, staring at his phone for a quarter of an hour and wasn't any closer to pressing "Dial". Snapping the device shut, he stuffed it into his jacket pocket with a muffled sound of disgust.
She'd left messages, a dozen of them, demanding to know where he was and when he'd be back, pleading with him to give up whatever insane mission he was on. He hadn't been able to bring himself to respond to a single one. What good would calling her do? It'd only make things more difficult for both of them. It was pointless.
That was what he told himself again and again, but there wasn't a bone in his body that didn't miss her. New Orleans felt like a lifetime ago and it'd ended far too quickly. For now he was consoled knowing that she was safe and surrounded by people who cared about her, people who could help her comes to terms with what'd happened in that alley. He'd never intended for any of this to happen, but that didn't change the fact that it was entirely his fault. Now, it was left up to him to make it right.
Damon studied a nondescript apartment building across the street and headed for the door. The first step in his mission to get Elena a day walking ring was to obtain some much needed information – by whatever means were necessary. He glanced through the list of names on the door and smirked at the plate that read L. Lioncourt. What better moniker could one of the most notorious vampire groupies in America have than that of one of its most famous fictional vampires?
He pressed the buzzer of apartment 14 and waited. After a few seconds he heard a click and then the soft sound of someone breathing.
"It's Damon Salvatore," he announced.
An abrupt click sounded through the small, grainy speaker, followed by a loud buzzing sound. Damon pulled open the door with a satisfied look and took the elevator to the 14th floor.
Markus was waiting for him, eyeing him up and down like a hungry wolf.
"Never thought I'd see you again," he remarked, a slight edge to his tone.
Damon shrugged and pushed past him into the apartment. The loft was spacious, decorated to the rafters in top of the line everything. It was apparent that Markus had himself at least one very wealthy vampire benefactor. He turned back to the man in question as he heard the door shut.
"The last time you were in Seattle I caught you with my girlfriend. If you're looking for a repeat performance I hate to inform you that we're no longer together and I have no idea where she is."
"Oh Markus," Damon cooed with a sarcastic smile. "I did you a favour! If it wasn't me it would've been some other vampire. At least I did you the courtesy of leaving her alive."
"You're an asshole."
Markus scowled at him across his kitchen sink and then took out a bottle of Scotch and two tumblers. He poured a healthy amount into both glasses and promptly downed his. He topped his glass up again and pushed the other across the counter. Damon took it up and offered him a silent toast before tossing it back. The vervain burned on the way down, enough to make his eyes water, but he managed to swallow it without any visible struggle. Putting vervain into their own alcohol supply had built up his tolerance, but Markus had spiked his bottles with a considerable amount.
"You've been keeping yourself well stocked on vervain, I see," he observed, his voice sounding slightly rougher than usual.
Markus smirked, "Yeah, well, one can never be too careful." He took a thoughtful sip of his drink and leaned casually against the kitchen counter. "So what is it you want, Damon Salvatore?"
"Information. Specifically, the name of someone I can talk to about getting a day walking ring."
"What's the matter? Yours stopped working?" he teased. Drinking down what was left of his Scotch, he left the glass onto the counter and manoeuvred around Damon.
"I wish I could help you, Damon, I really do, but the words 'go to Hell' come to mind."
Damon sighed and shook his head, "You know, I was really hoping you wouldn't make this difficult. Can't we just pretend to be friends for 10 minutes so I can get what I need and be out of your life for good?"
"Tempting," Markus retorted flatly. "Now get the hell out."
Damon had no intention of leaving. Before Markus could react, he'd wrapped a hand around his neck.
"You could have made this easier on yourself," he lamented with a hint of regret. "I had every intention of compelling the information out of you and then leaving but now you've made that impossible. Lucky for me, I know a variety of ways to extract information from unwilling participants."
"I won't tell you shit," he swore, struggling against the pressure of the fingers bruising his throat.
"Yes, you will. How long you suffer before that point is entirely up to you," Damon said with chilling certainty.
The sudden extra pressure of his fingers was just enough to knock his victim out. Damon promptly dropped him to the floor and set about gagging him and tying him to the nearest chair. One way or another, he was going to get the information he needed. Whether Markus survived the ordeal was another matter entirely.
Selected Listening:
Florence + The Machine – Shake It Out (Acoustic)