I thank you guys for reading, especially those of you who reviewed! Lately I've been struggling quite a bit with writing. Nothing sounds quite right - and this chapter alone went through three different versions before it finally felt okay enough to post it here.
No idea why that is, but to those of you who put in the extra effort and left some words: this is for you!
I'm hoping the next chapter after this one will come sooner, but I can't make any promises.
But let's delve in, shall we?
…
Damon takes a few staggering steps, sinking to his knees in the damp sand as soon as they make it to the beach. Behind him, somewhere, he can feel rather than hear Enzo emerge out of the shorebreak with his semi-conscious passenger tripping and stumbling along. There is no time to turn around and make sure they're okay, however, no time for words, because before him in the sand lies Bonnie, this stranger that he seems to know so well already after having dragged her through the water for what seems like a long long time but can't have been much more than a few minutes.
Her eyes are closed, her lips almost blue, lips he's about to graze with his own. He leans over and, with determination, blows air into her lungs. That first breath is jolting, intimate, but soon he's in a zone, barely even registering that Enzo has come over to assist him, until his friend grabs his arm, staring at him sternly.
"What do you think you're doing?" Damon asks him, pulling his arm away. His brows turn up in an angry arch, but as usual, Enzo doesn't fall for it.
"She's gone, Damon."
Gritting his teeth, he shakes his head.
"No."
He has no idea why it is so important to him, but this woman, he needs her to live.
"Damon."
Without thinking, he shoves Enzo away, then continues his CPR attempts. A breath, then hard pushes down onto her chest, and repeat - until he's sure he's breaking ribs. So be it, if it saves her. But she doesn't begin to breathe on her own. Her prone body feels cold under his touch, making goosebumps erupt on his skin.
"Come on," he cajoles, "Breathe."
"Oh gosh. She can't be dead. Please! Bonnie. Bonnie!" The blonde girl with her desperate wails is not helping so Damon shoots her an annoyed glare, then decides to ignore her rather than yell at her to shut up in an unusual moment of sympathy. Poor thing looks positively shell-shocked, after all, and he can't blame her for freaking out. Because Bonnie is dying, and if he's feeling distraught about that without even knowing her, then Blondie has more reason to be an emotional mess.
"Come on, Bonnie." With gritted teeth, he shakes his head, then breathes more air into her lungs. "Live."
"Damon…"
Leaning back for a moment, he squints at his friend, needing a few seconds to rest his tired arms and catch his breath.
"Don't, Lorenzo. If you got nothing helpful to say, shut up."
With that, he inhales deeply then moves forward to continue his task, catching a brief glimpse of the other man clenching his jaw. But instead of laying into him more, trying to convince him that saving this girl is a lost cause, Enzo surprises him when he puts his own hands where Damon's have just been and begins to push in his stead - while Damon gets to solely focus on breathing for two. Breathing for Bonnie.
Shooting his friend a silent but grateful glance, he does just that, filling his lungs, sharing the air, feeling Bonnie's cold lips against his until he's sure they're beginning to warm up again. Or is that just his own body warmth seeping through to her?
"What if she doesn't start breathing on her own?"
Enzo's words sound clipped. Trying to save a life is hard work. Damon blinks at him, growing light headed from sharing his precious oxygen with the woman before him. Without thinking, he strokes her forehead briefly before breathing for her yet again. What if she doesn't start breathing on her own, indeed? He has no freaking idea. All he knows is that he isn't going to let her die. And if that means he has to turn her . . .
Looking up to exchange a meaningful glance with his friend, he sees the silent comprehension in the other's eyes, a light tick of the jaw muscles letting Damon know how Enzo really feels.
"I can't let her die."
Instead of replying, Enzo grits his teeth more, pushing down on Bonnie's chest without pause. There's a different kind of determination in his movements now. It doesn't take a genius to know why and Damon almost smiles.
Except.
The decision is not an easy one. What if she struggles as much with this as his best friend has done for the last however many decades? What if she grows to resent him? What if this ruins her life more than death ever could. . .
She's a creature of the earth.
Closing his eyes, he takes another deep breath, bends down, breathes out into Bonnie's open mouth, his lips staying connected to hers for a split second longer this time.
What magic does she possess that he can't seem to think clearly anymore? What is it about her?
A sigh escapes him, caressing her soft skin, and he cups her face as he slowly pulls himself back up, locking gazes with Enzo once more as he begins to push up the sleeve stuck to his arm.
"Damon…"
Enzo shakes his head. Somewhere behind him, the other girl is hugging herself and crying, as if she already accepted what Damon is so reluctant to accept for himself.
"Don't."
"I have to. She's so young. She's…"
"I know. But you can't do this to her. She doesn't deserve this. Come on, mate."
Damon shakes his head. There's a struggle happening inside of him, two opposing urges battling against each other, and he already knows which one is going to win. So he brings his wrist to his mouth, gently pricking the skin there until small pebbles of blood make their way through, and just as he lowers his arm down toward her lips, he sees Enzo slam his fist against Bonnie's chest one last time before he pulls back, glaring at Damon with sudden anger. And maybe he's right to be so angry, but all Damon can focus on is the one drop of blood dripping down from his wrist, as if in slow motion, and before it quite lands in Bonnie's mouth, her eyelids begin to flutter, then open, and seaweed-green eyes stare up at him.
An involuntary smile crosses his features, then he swallows around a lump in his throat and says, "Hi."
…
The sound of the waves is like a soft murmur in the background, strong enough to make her sleepy. Yet Bonnie has just woken up even though what she sees - who she sees, a stranger with piercing blue eyes staring down on her, wiping over her mouth - makes her question whether she is asleep after all. This has to be a dream. The world is a bit hazy around her, the sky above so gray - dark piles of clouds looming overhead as if the world is about to end.
Maybe it already did.
"What…" happened, she wants to ask but she doesn't quite get the words out, her throat feeling strangely sore as a harsh cough escapes her, making her grimace and clutch at her hurting chest. Something must have crushed her.
"You took a bit of a tumble down the cliff, sweetheart. Had to drag you out of the water. You almost drowned. But thanks to me, your very own guardian angel, you get to live another day."
Sweetheart? Aw, hell no. She's trying to push herself up into a sitting position, her body realizing that she was lying down before her mind has completely processed that fact. She's lying down? And why the hell is she lying in wet sand? On the beach?
They were on their way home from a little getaway…
"Caroline?" she gasps out as memory comes back in an abrupt shower of mosaic pieces, some of them still missing, some of them coming together again. Oh gosh, the car… They crashed into something, didn't they? What if Caroline is hurt? The pain in her chest becomes agonizing as she rushes up, the hand of the man before her firmly keeping her from getting up too fast.
Frowning at him with sudden anger, she tries to shove his hand away. Caroline might still be out there, Caroline. . .
"Your friend? She's okay. She's over there with my buddy Enzo. Don't worry, he looks grumpier than he is. Well… He is quite grumpy but he's also English and hasn't had his tea yet, so…"
Bonnie's gaze wanders. She's not quite listening to the man anymore, who seems to be rambling too much anyways. Instead, she lets him help her to a sitting position, allowing herself to lean against him, to cling to his arm as she's searching for Caroline.
And there she is, looking wet and a bit shaken but definitely alive. She's talking to another stranger, or rather, staring at him intently while he is talking. There's something odd about that, but she can't quite pinpoint why she thinks so.
"I'm Damon by the way. Salvatore."
She turns again to look at her companion, her mouth opening as she's trying to come up with something to say, trying to process, but her mind is still so muddled.
"Damon…" His name feels soft against her palate. "Nice to meet you. I'm Bonnie. Bennett."
The smile he gives her is disarming - and a little cheeky.
"And thank you," she adds, realizing finally that his being here must mean he saved her. Her gaze falls on the ocean and she feels a lump lodge in her throat.
Deep gray whirls of water dragging her down… Does she really remember this?
"Anytime. Although, I'd prefer it if you didn't take a dive again."
Chuckling softly, she closes her eyes, feeling like she's still floating. Like she's out there in the water, the waves carrying her, rather than sitting here on the steady ground. When she opens them again, her gaze is drawn to the ocean almost immediately, as if there's something out there calling for her.
"What were you doing out here, anyways? Other than waiting to rescue a girl from drowning."
"Me? Oh, nothing special. Looking for mussels, that kinda thing."
"Mussels?"
"Yeah." He grins again and for some reason she can't look away. "We, uh, sell 'em to the local restaurant."
"Really. Does that pay decently?" She can't believe it's worth it. Taking him in completely for the first time, she notices that he's not wearing any special gear, no windbreaker, no fishing boots. In fact, his feet are bare, only a pair of old-fashioned pants and a shirt that was probably en vogue a century ago hanging off his lean frame. He's very handsome in that strange outfit, she can't deny it, but his attire also makes her wonder how hard she hit her head in the crash. There's an air of "long ago" enveloping this guy, and it makes her skin prickle. - Then again, it's also friggin' cold and her clothes are soaking wet and apparently she just almost died, so that's another good reason for a case of the goosebumps.
She looks up, gingerly putting her hand against her ribs as Damon offers her a hand.
"I think you broke my ribs," she says, and the way he chuckles in reply is both disconcerting and endearing.
"I also saved you."
Raising an eyebrow, she allows him to pull her up, very slowly, watching him shrug nonchalantly. His cocky, unapologetic behavior is getting to her. Of course he doesn't need to say "I'm sorry." He saved her after all. But...
That smile is still there.
"Which means," he continues, oblivious to her musings, "at least according to some Chinese proverb - if I remember correctly - I am now responsible for that life. Responsible for you, Bonnie Bennett."
She scoffs, averting her gaze, trying to think, to function.
"Yeah, right… Don't worry, though, I'll be out of your hair before…" Noticing that she's still holding his hand, she trails off, staring up at him. "I… my car is in there?" She jerks her chin at the ocean, and Damon nods in confirmation. Oh no… Patting herself down, she begins looking for her phone, then turns to search for Caroline again. "I don't have my phone. I'm… oh gosh, I don't even know how to get home now. Can't even call a frigging taxi. And even if I could, no one would accept a soaking wet customer. I'm…"
"You're gonna be okay, Bonnie. Let me take care of this."
"You got a phone?"
"Not exactly…"
"Not exactly? What does that mean? You either have one or you don't."
He sighs, and she is too tired to continue interrogating him. After all, she just survived something that should have killed her. That should make her a little more appreciative, right?
"Actually, I think Enzo has his phone," Damon interrupts her train of thought. "So why don't you sit down over here and I let him call the cops for you - an ambulance too, just to make sure you're okay," he suddenly says in a manner that seems more reserved than before, and with a weary sigh of her own, she nods.
"Okay. Thank you."
His smile is back once again, his fingers grazing her lips. When he pulls away, he wipes a dark smudge off his thumb, making her frown and touch her mouth.
"Was that blood?"
Her fingers come away clean, and Damon shakes his head, then cups her face to look at her.
His eyes are so deep, the color of the ocean, or the skies, and she knows she will drown if she doesn't look away. But she can't. For some reason, she can't.
"Just a drop. It's gone now. Was never there. You had a car accident. Went into the water but made it out yourself. You and your friend. There was no one else there. You are okay now, you are safe. Someone will come get you. As soon as they get here, I'll be nothing but the shadow of a dream. I was never here. Farewell, Bonnie Bennett. It's better this way…"
Shaking her head, she looks at him, blinking once, twice.
"What did you just say?"
"What? I didn't say anything."
She frowns. That smile...
...
"Look at me, gorgeous."
Caroline has stopped shivering. The second she noticed Damon doing something odd, bringing his arm to his lips and - biting himself? - she froze, is still frozen as she's trying to process what the hell she just saw. But now Bonnie is awake and she wants to run over to her friend, but this guy, this dark haired man in his century-old looking outfit, with his hazel-eyes that look more brown now that they are on land, has his gaze on hers, his hands clasping her arms a little too tightly, and she doesn't seem to have the power to move or speak.
Let me go, she maybe wants to say. What the hell is going on here, and who are you guys? But she can't. It's as if her mind is going blank, and all she can focus on are his eyes, so deep and dark, pulling her in like the water did before. She is about to sink and never come up, isn't she?
While she remains silently staring at him, he continues with his sonorous accented voice, "You and your friend went over the cliff. You almost drowned, your friend almost died, but Damon here resuscitated her. You're a bit cold but otherwise fine and you won't quite remember the whole ordeal."
"The blood. . ."
He doesn't bat an eye, doesn't seem to need to check what she means as she weakly tries to point to where this Damon is now gently keeping Bonnie from getting up too quickly.
"He scratched himself while getting her out of the car. It's nothing. - You won't remember the blood. You won't remember much more than that you made it out of the water alright. You'll be fine."
"Will I remember you?"
What a weird question. She doesn't even know why she's asking it, doesn't know why she isn't asking what she probably should: why the hell he's saying such nonsense. His words should alarm her, but they don't. He's talking as if he has some secret power that can make her forget. What a silly thought. Surely, this is just his way of trying to calm her down.
Gnawing on her lower lip, she waits for his reply, her body growing weary as she does. She needs to lie down somewhere, maybe have a glass or two of wine first. Give Bonnie a big, big hug. She almost lost her…
The stranger before her licks his lips, then presses them together until she can see the muscles in his cheeks stand out. There's so much tension in him.
"I'm Caroline," she says when he still doesn't say anything, then she smiles, a little wobbly, but it will have to do. She extends her hand, but his is still gripping her arm, and the way he cocks his head to take her in makes her falter a bit before she puts hers down again. "Okayyyy then. Do you mind if I go over to my friend now?"
A flicker, a sudden sensation like losing gravity, and she sways. She must have lost a few seconds there because the next thing she knows, she's in his arms, flush against his chest, looking up.
"I'm sorry."
"You'll be fine," is all he says in reply, then, when she fumbles for something to hold onto, grabbing his soaking wet shirt, he pushes her back to her feet, giving her a last look, before he lets go of her. "Go."
And she does. She pulls away, shooting one last look at him before she does, vaguely noticing that she's accidentally ripped off one of the buttons of his shirt. The small, coin-like token feels soft and cool in her hand, and even though deep down she knows she should just apologize and hand it over to him, she doesn't. The button is hers now, something to remember.
"Bonnie." Saying the name seems to jolt her out of whatever haze she was in before, and already the conversation with the stranger is fading from her conscience, seeping away like the warmth of her body.
They need to get out of their soaking wet clothes.
"Bon! Oh my gosh, are you alright?" She is running now, bridging the few feet to where her friend is standing now, a slightly dazed look on her face. "Are you okay? Oh, Bonnie, you gave me such a scare. For a second I thought, I…" had lost you…
She can't say it out loud, as if saying it out loud could still make it true, and that can't happen. Bonnie is her best friend. Coming to stand next to her, she hesitates a moment before wrapping the other girl in her arms.
"I'm okay, Care."
She's sobbing, she can't help it, sobbing and laughing at the same time. "Yeah? You sure?"
Bonnie is smiling. Despite what she's been through, she looks way more collected than Caroline. She looks… okay.
"I'm sure. Thanks to Damon here."
"Aw." He waves her off, smiling only at Bonnie when he replies. "Happy to help. Though, just to be clear. If you decide to go in the water at this time of year again, I suggest putting on a wet suit. And… park that car of yours first."
Bonnie rolls her eyes, but smiles, and for some reason Caroline feels like she missed something. A little helpless, she looks away, her gaze meeting that of the other stranger. Her stranger. He's standing a little off to the side now, arms by his sides, an unreadable expression on his face as he stares at her.
In her hand she's still holding the button.
She will remember him, right?
And why is she even wondering that? Is there something she's not remembering?
...
