An earthy aroma, softer light, fog, swirling leaves, cool air and wetter ground - the season of fall wraps around Damon's senses like a well-worn glove as he loads his pickup with feed for his animals. He also tosses in a couple of bags each of dog and cat food to donate to their local animal shelter. A crisp breeze blows the hair around his face.
It's well into November now. The skies are low and grey, the rain falling steadily these past few days. He thinks it'll be a harsh winter; they've already had their first blizzard of the season a few weeks ago, fortunately the snow quickly disappeared.
The air is cold, drawing the heat from his skin. He notices each breath as the moisture from his lungs rises in thick plumes with each exhale. Every drop of rain has the icy kiss of winter, a promise of the season that's nearly upon them.
After leaving the feed store, he drops off the donation to the shelter then goes downtown to get some lunch before heading home.
The trees no longer wear their virescent hues of spring and summer, instead they're scarlets, browns and golds. In just a few weeks their branches will stand naked in the frozen air.
As Damon walks down the sidewalk in his black leather coat, he deliberately steps on them, just to hear the crunch. Lost in thought, he looks when he hears his name.
"Mrs. Gilbert?"
"Have you heard from her?" she runs up to him.
"No, I haven't heard from her since last year's Christmas card," he tells her truthfully.
"You're not lying to me, are you?" she glares at him in an accusatory manner.
"No, Mrs. Gilbert and I resent that implication. If you really want to know why she doesn't come home, perhaps you should look in the mirror..." he rakes his eyes over her and then walks away, ending the conversation.
As much as he misses Elena, he fully understands why she had to flee...
Elena's sitting a little coffee shop overlooking Puget sound. It's a cloudy overcast day. Falling leaves tumble from the interlocking tree branches. As autumn marches toward winter there will be only those fine strands of brown in the distance and the sunlight will cascade to the forest floor unhindered.
She notices a young couple, walking hand in hand, genuine smiles on their faces... The girl is like a snapshot out of time. Elena can see her chestnut hair blowing in the spring breeze, her youthful face turned toward the sky. She reminds her of herself...
And Damon...
She watches till they're out of her line of sight; and the moment passes as a photograph, each morphing so perfectly into the next, so many special moments she shared with him.
"Damon?" Elena pretends to be angry but can't keep up the ruse and cracks a smile.
"Oh, come on, you liked it," he picks her up again and swings her in the air. With a wink, he tosses her onto a heaping pile of leaves, plenty of cushion that he knows she won't get hurt then jumps in after her, playfully crunching them into her hair.
"Do you know how hard it'll be to get them all out?" she tries to give him a mean stare but can't. While he's laughing, she fists a handful and mashes them into his face. He sputters, spitting out pieces of dried leaves.
Elena scrambles to her feet and tries to run away but he catches up and tackles her to the ground. Soon they're both breathing heavily and before she can get a word out, Damon's lips are on hers.
"Would you like a refill" the waitress appears, pulling Elena from her reverie.
"Yes, thank you," she nods and lets her head rest against the glass. Sometimes she feels like a ghost in a world of paper dolls. Should she call him?
Her memories of him are the only ones she holds dear from that time of her life. She's made a name for herself; she has fame and more money than she'll ever spend so why does she feel so empty?
Of course, you're empty; Damon's always been your safe harbor, keeping you away from the gales and the storms.
"Mam, your phone is ringing," the waitress returns, again pulling Elena from her thoughts.
"Thanks, she pulls it out of her pocket. It's Tyler; he's been very good to her. And if Damon still cared why hasn't he reached out to her?
Because you dolt, he doesn't have your phone number.
Still, a part of her would like to believe that he'd have found a way if he really wanted to. She picks up her bag, pulls her jacket up to cover her neck and walks out into the rainy Seattle afternoon, hoping Tyler can help push her memories back into the deep recesses of her mind where they belong.
Damon's chopping wood, something he's always done when he needs to think. He's dressed in thick brown work boots - heavy blue jeans hug his powerful thighs - gray thermal shirt and a bulky black and red plaid, heavy flannel shirt.
Snow is lightly falling, coating the earth in a soft white powder. It covers the Black Hills around Deadwood and clings to the trees. Despite the cold, he's working up a sweat, chopping methodically.
His chest is heaving when he stops for a moment to take a swallow from his thermos. He takes a seat on a downed tree. Trying as hard as he might, he can't get the conversation with Elena out of his mind. Determined to reach her, he called Lockwood records demanding to speak to Tyler. Naturally he was hung up on several times but when he mentioned he was a childhood friend of their star, they eventually put him through to Mr. Lockwood. He suspects it was more to get him to quit calling.
The guy was actually civil but he could hear it in his voice that he didn't approve... Several hours later, he returned the call with a phone number, not hers though because he hasn't been able to reach her since then.
Setting the thermos down, he drops his head into his hands and closes his eyes. She sounded like a stranger; someone he doesn't know at all.. As painful as that realization is, he wanted to do something, he had to so he did the first thing that popped into his mind. He invited her to join him and his family for Thanksgiving. She used to love his mom's turkey with all the trimmings and her homemade pumpkin and mince pies.
He feels a little guilty for not telling Kaley but why should he hurt her if Elena's going to be a no-show anyway? Although she's is a nice distraction, a good person, he still feels emptiness, the same thing he's felt since he watched her airplane raise off the runway all those years ago.
"Stop it Damon," he picks up his axe again. He wields it high above his head and slams it down powerfully, easily spitting the log. The sound reverberates off the mountains and rings loudly in his ears. A sudden gust of wind lifts his hair off his shoulders. His chest is heaving and his breath comes out in ragged exhales. When he looks up, the snow clings to his eyelashes. Using the back of his forearm, he wipes his eyes then lines up another log.
Perhaps it's time to let go of his childish dreams...
Mindless of the snow, the sidewalks are filled with shoppers going in and out of stores, carrying brightly colored packages. Elena's not at all surprised by the merriment exhibited by the throngs of people as she strolls down the sidewalk.
The naked winter trees line the avenue. Her breath rises in visible puffs. There is a freezing chill in the air that makes the leaves, bejeweled with frost, that crunch underfoot.
Despite everything, she has always liked the holiday. Somehow Damon managed to make her smile, no matter her circumstances. He'd put post it notes on her locker, leading her on a scavenger hunt for her secret Santa surprises. Honestly, he's and Martha too are the reason not all of her childhood memories are tainted.
That thought alone lifts the corners of her mouth. She's doing a little shopping, enjoying the festive atmosphere and the sounds of the season. The path sparkles and crunches, like sugar underfoot.
The air is frozen lace on her skin, delicate and cold, like winter waves on sallow sand. The sky is washed with grey, watery light illuminating thin patches to brilliance.
"Hello, Santa," Elena smiles at him.
"Merry Christmas," a man ringing a brass bell says aloud at everyone passing in front of him. He says thank you when she drops a twenty into his red bucket.
The wind whispers lightly as the snow falls like confetti on her wooly cap, making the day even more beautiful. She blows out a wispy puff of breath, creating a plume of white.
Approaching a store, Elena walks inside, the bell of above the door rings as she opens it and crosses the threshold. She breathes in the smell of Christmas, pine trees and peppermint apple cider. Elena watches for a moment as the children take turns sitting on Santa's lap.
Martha stoops down, brushing Elena's bangs off of her forehead. "You want to see Santa, don't you?"
Elena's lip quivers as she shakes her head back and forth. Damon moves beside her.
"I'll go with you," he takes her hand. "We can tell him what we want for Christmas."
"You'll come too?" she looks at him with her big brown eyes.
He bobs his head excitedly. "I want a new bike. What do you want?"
"A dolly and some clothes.
"You have to tell him that," Damon grips her hand tighter and together they get in line. When they're sitting on Santa's lap, Martha snaps a photo.
"Oh, excuse me," a woman apologizes after brushing up against her.
Elena smiles at her before her now glassy eyes drift back to the children. She got the doll she wanted along with some clothes that Martha sewed herself and she loved it all so much. Hours and hours she spent playing with that baby doll.
Sighing, she shakes herself out of it then gets on the escalator to go to the men's department. Elena runs her hand along the belt rack, listening to them jingle at the buckles. She watches them move back and forth, independent of each other but bound to the same shiny rod of chrome.
Having no idea what to get Tyler, she departs the store, flags a cab and goes home, only to find him waiting for her.
"Hey," Elena takes off her coat and joins him in the kitchen. "I thought you had something to do tonight?"
"No, that's tomorrow," he says over his shoulder as he pours the pasta into a colander. "You hungry?"
"A little. I've been thinking..."
"About what?" he holds up a spoonful of spaghetti sauce for her to taste.
"It's good," she reaches for a napkin. "As I was saying, I've given some thought to going home for Christmas...to South Dakota," she opens the refrigerator for a bottle of water. Immediately she notices the rigid set of his posture.
Slowly he turns around, his eyes raking over her. "Aren't you the one who said you never wanted to go back?"
"I know what I said, Tyler," she takes a long swallow wishing it was whiskey instead.
"Well then? Why even consider when you know you can't go anyway? You're booked for an appearance on the Katherine Pierce Show that week."
"I'm aware, but I could still go home for a few days..."
"Your home is here...you and I both know you don't really want to go back there. That place only has bad memories, why relive them?"
"They're not all bad memories, Tyler."
Her sigh is of a softly deflating one; as if all the tension is leaving her with a sense of relief rather than melancholy.
"I guess you're right..."
Frosty air forces its way into his lungs and stings his eyes. Damon wraps his scarf twice around his neck so that it overlaps his bluing lips, hoping that his own exhaled air will be trapped around them in a microcosm of warmth. Yet even then the chill seeps in. He tenses his muscles, bringing his limbs in closer, and bends his head to the oncoming wind. The loose snow from the ground becomes tiny darts in the gust and he begins to squint to retain any vision at all.
As soon as he steps inside the barn, he's wipes is eyes and exhales a frosty puff of air. His Alpacas need to be fed and given fresh water. He keeps the barn closed when it gets this cold.
The inside walls are lined with bales of straw, stacked three or four high to cut down on the drafts. Other than the cold and the snow, alpaca care is actually a little easier in the winter because he doesn't have to clean and shovel out the barn. What he's learned is to spread straw on top of the droppings which generates heat from the lower layers of it composting.
"Here you go," he pets one of them and drops some sliced carrots in the food bowl, knowing they love them. He makes sure to put some in each paddock and fills their bowls with pellets.
Just as he's finishing up, he feels a gust of wind. "Mom, you shouldn't be out in this," he calls aloud without turning around.
"It's me, Damon..."
He stiffens then very slowly turns around. His mouth opens and closes in silence. Every part of him goes on pause while his brain struggles to catch up.
Is he hallucinating?
"Elena?"
Hello everyone and thank you for everything.
Chapter title: 'Counting Stars' by OneRepublic
I did post a one-shot yesterday - 'We Need A Little Christmas'.
I hope you're all having an amazing day.