The twitch of his fingers – the thumb of his left-hand skirting against his middle finger, fidgeting with the ghost of a ring that's no longer there. Damon admits it; he is in a foul mood. This day has been productive but fucking unreal.
The bar he finds himself in was almost entirely empty and the bartender has stopped trying to make polite conversation with him an hour ago. How Elena seems to have such a strong grasp on him already seems unfathomable...
Not wanting to consider what that means, he empties another glass of bourbon before returning to his hotel room where he flops face-first on the bed without bothering to shower.
Back in Kirtland AFB, Damon is covered from head to toe in a BL-4 biosafety suit. He flips the switch on his respirator, which sucks the air out of the atmosphere, filters it, and pumps it into the suit. He starts to swell up like the Pillsbury doughboy.
Damon peers into the electron microscope looking at autopsy specimens from some of the victims. They all look the same, round clusters of virus particles. If only they can match them to one of the CDC's known viruses. He's hoping Sheila will have some luck in that respect. Damon disconnects the umbilical cord that delivers oxygen to his biosafety suit when he's safely out of the containment area.
From there Damon flies back to Gallup and returns to his office. Just as he's sitting down, a message from Sheila ratchets across the screen: "Looks like you were correct, it appears to be a hantavirus."
Damon stares at the words. He doesn't breathe for a long beat. "You son of a bitch, why didn't you stay dormant?"
"According to the Navajo medicine men, something like this current outbreak has happened before in 1918 and 1933. In those years, as in this year, unpredictable weather disrupted the harmony of the world. Unusually harsh winters, followed by excessive spring rain happened then just like this year. Pinon trees produced an unusually bountiful crop of pine nuts. Mice, who feast on pine nuts, multiplied. Many young Navajo died."
"But is it the same hantavirus?" Damon asks himself. The next step is crucial, proving that the virus taken from the victims has come from the mice they've collected on the scene. They have to compare the genetic makeup of the virus with that found in the mice, much like using fingerprints to make an identification.
Having been granted short emergency leave, Elena is at Aaron's final resting place. The weight of it nearly sends her crumbling to the ground but she has to be strong for his parents. Mere seconds pass before she feels a hand on her back, a strong yet gentle touch. Elena turns her head to see Aaron's uncle Wes nodding at her.
"I'm Elena Gilbert and Aaron was my lifelong friend. He and I met on the first day of kindergarten. I was crying because I felt afraid and alone. I missed my mom. Aaron marched right up to me and took my hand. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'I'll take care of you.' That's who he was. He was always the kind of person who would step up and take care of someone sad or hurt or afraid." Elena pauses to dab her eyes.
"That's why none of us were surprised when he became a fireman. On the worst day of people's lives, he was there, willing to put himself on the line to protect people and their families. In the end, he didn't die saving people. A terrible illness took him from us. But knowing Aaron, he wouldn't have any regrets. In the short time, he was with us, he lived life to the fullest and I'm honored to have been his friend. I'm still sad about it though. Right now, I still feel afraid and I wish more than anything that he was here to hold my hand and get me through.
"I love you, Aaron, rest in peace," Elena adds as she finishes the eulogy.
Stooping down, Elena curls her fingers around a handful of loose dirt as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. Standing back up, she tosses the dirt on the casket, "Goodbye Aaron," she whispers just as his mother wraps her arms around Elena and together they walk out of the cemetery.
Damon pokes his head into Elena's office, finding Caroline typing at the computer. "Is Elena free?" he asks when the blonde looks up.
"No, actually she's not. She was granted emergency leave for a private matter."
"That's incredible!" Damon shakes his head. "Right now, in the midst of an epidemic, she takes off!"
"It's not like that, Dr. Salvatore."
"Than what is it like, Caroline?" he asks, his hands on his hips waiting for a reply.
"A close personal friend of hers died. She left to go to his funeral and be there for his parents."
"His?" Damon asks as his attitude immediately softens.
"Yes, Aaron Whitmore. She's known him since they were kids."
"When did this happen?"
"Four days ago," Caroline replies, watching as Damon sits down.
A look of surprise washes over his face. "I was angry and confronted her...that's why she was crying," Damon remarks, shaking his head slightly.
"She was very upset but I figured it was related to Aaron. She was in a hurry to leave so I really didn't have the opportunity to pry anything out of her. Usually, Elena keeps her feelings pretty close to the vest," Caroline admits, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I have to get back to work," Damon states absently.
He quickly leaves Elena's office and walks down the hall at a quick pace, his boots clicking a cadence on the tile floor.
It's a quiet evening and Damon sitting on one of the loungers at the motel pool with a bourbon resting on the table beside him. He's starting to think maybe leaving this place - leaving Elena - will be difficult. Surprisingly, he's gotten comfortable with the rather quiet environment. He's used to the chaos of Atlanta and all that a big city entails. The disease notwithstanding, this place feels like a small slice of paradise because of her.
He thinks of Elena and how unsettled he feels about the last time he saw her. She accused him of making her look like a fool. Obviously, there was more to her outburst than simply her friend's death. Damon just doesn't know what caused such a visceral reaction from her.
Picking up the glass, he takes a swallow, enjoying the hint of tobacco and nutmeg with figs and pear. He's about to refill his glass when he's interrupted by the telephone.
"Bonnie, hi. It's good to hear your voice," Damon greets his best friend.
"I certainly have enjoyed all these nice long phone calls," Bonnie chastises with a sarcastic tone.
"I am busy here trying to identify a pathogen," Damon defends himself.
"I know. Grams told me as much. Any success?"
"Yes, we're pretty sure it's a hantavirus but we need to confirm that yet."
"You made the national news, the disease I mean," Bonnie informs him.
"Yeah, they've been at the hospital where Dr. Gilbert works too. That woman takes no prisoners. She demanded they stay off hospital property after they referred to it as a 'Navajo flu'. This virus isn't specific to indigenous people and it shouldn't be described as such."
"I like her," Bonnie replies.
"Yeah? I like her, too." Damon takes another swallow of bourbon.
"Do tell..."
"We're not on personal speaking terms right now."
"What did you do, Damon?"
"That's just it, Bonnie. I don't know," he replies with a sigh and hears a door slam in the background.
"Grams just got here. We're going out to eat so I have to run. But, Damon, if you like this woman, apologize and make it right. Goodbye."
Damon clicks off his phone and stares into nothingness for a few seconds. He hopes Elena will be back soon so he can do just that.
After an emotionally exhausting few days, Elena immediately calls Caroline to tell her about the funeral and to arrange a girl's night.
Her excited squeal is all Elena needs and an hour later, they are sitting around the coffee table with a half-demolished pizza between them and a bottle of wine open and flowing freely into their glasses.
"He did WHAT?" Caroline screeches, her voice an octave higher than the legal limit.
"God, Caroline, could you have said that any louder?" Elena hisses and swats Caroline on the arm, who cries out in pain dramatically before she turns the attention back to Elena. "Okay, details. Now."
Elena spills because frankly, she can't keep it all bottled up any longer. After explaining what Damon did, Caroline is staring at her with outrage.
"Bastard!"
"Granted I may have overreacted but he implied that my patients don't trust me."
"So what are you going to do now?" Caroline asks gently.
"As much as I'd love not giving him the satisfaction of affecting me, Damon just sort of snuck up on me. He got under my skin and no matter what I do I just...I can't shake him," Elena pauses to refill their glasses and take a mouthful.
"However, this virus is bigger than both of us. I'm going to have to put my feelings aside to work with him even though I'd like nothing more right now than to give him a swift kick south of his belt buckle."
Caroline gives her you-go-girl look and they're finished talking about Damon.
As they settle in to watch an old movie, Elena's grateful to have such a close friend.
In Atlanta, Sheila and her team painstakingly extract hantavirus genes from tissues snipped from two victims of the disease during autopsy. They then use a technique known as a polymerase chain reaction to multiply strands of DNA millions of times, so that they can compare it with DNA made by other hantaviruses.
To make the connection, they count the number of tell-tale acids called nucleotides, the building blocks of DNA, which are matched like twins in a format called base pairs. Working around the clock, Damon, along with his counterparts in Atlanta discovered that the specimens taken from the victims during autopsy are confirmed to be a member of the hantavirus family. But it's unique.
Damon and his team have found a newly emergent virus and it has 139 base pairs.
"It is exactly the same virus that they found in the initial patient. That closes the circle," Damon states to Sheila who's nodding at him through the video monitor.
Thirty-four days after Jasmine Wood's death, her killer has been identified.
I apologize for the delay. I meant to update Sunday but that Cloudflare thing that FF has deployed wouldn't let me sign into my account. I'd fill out the captcha and instead of letting me in, it would just reload the captcha, repeatedly. My husband and I were out of town for the last couple of days for a mini-vacation and I wasn't going to pay $30. for 24 hours of internet. I will try to post 8 either tomorrow or Friday.
No DE in this chapter but it was necessary for the plot. They'll be sharing scenes in chapter 8 ;)
Thank you all so very much.
Chapter title: 'The Answer' by Richie Sambora.
I did post "Kiss of the Sabre" last week. It's kind of a romantic comedy with a little drama thrown in.
Be safe, take care, and have a wonderful day.
