"Open your eyes, Damon..."
He contemplates the request for a few minutes while trying to absorb all the new perceptions and feelings that are foreign to him. His mind can't seem to push the pieces into place and yet it's all vaguely familiar. He's dreamt this dream before, many times actually but this time, it isn't quite right. There are subtle changes, he can smell bread baking and fresh air void of acrid smoke and gun powder is blowing through in the open window, the light breeze brushing across his skin making the sweaty hairs on his arms prickle slightly. While his head is trying to adapt and find some semblance of comprehension, he feels it, a soft hand touching his wrist.
"Don't move, I'll be right back." Before her words can sink through the fog inside of his mind, she's already gone. He tries not to panic but it's almost impossible when he's not sure how the hell he landed in this place. He must be dreaming, he has to be, for it to be anything else is simply impossible. He and Stefan overindulged in Tequila last night, that has to be it.
He's probably lying somewhere in his room, the bed or more likely the floor given this incredibly vivid yet somehow horrifying dream. His hand unconsciously scrambles around to find something familiar but the only thing he finds is a sturdy bed post and the smell of sun dried cotton sheets. He can't remember the last time he breathed in that scent, it's been such a long time since he.. since ... What? Was he about to say since he went to war'? His eyes fly open but he closes them again quickly as the blinding daylight burns his senses.
Then he feels it again, her touch, her Jasmine scent and hears her lyrical voice. He feels her arm stretch under his neck and with it, she raises his head and places a cup against his lips. It's only cold water. He can't remember ever tasting anything as good as it in his entire life.
"That's right," he can hear her. "Your mouth and throat must be parched."
His neck snaps towards the sound, a loud groan escaping at the same time. She then pulls her arm out and replaces it with a pillow so he can lean back against the headboard. His left arm is in a sling. Gingerly she places a pillow under it for support. It fucking hurts, how is this even possible?
"You must be careful," the voice full of concern cautions him.
"Where...?" he tries. "Who...?"
"I'm Elena...You're in my home.. I've been helping out at the hospital, it's getting so overcrowded. Your friends and fellow soldiers helped me to move you here. You'll be alright soon, I promise..."
Her voice is receding and he feels a cryptic sensation. Fear. Anxiety. The unknown. It can't be real. He can't explain why he's feeling this way but he doesn't like it that she has disappeared again. He tries to open his eyes, slowly. The light from the window isn't as blinding which helps, she must have pulled the curtain closed.
"That's right," he can hear the smile in her calming voice. His heart starts to slow down at the melodious sound of it.
He looks at her for the first time, her eyes burning holes, imprinting their image onto his soul. They outshine anything and everything in the room and just like before he can't perceive anything else. Liquid chocolate pools. He's looking at her for the first time.
"Elena..."
Every time Damon closes his eyes and goes to sleep, he expects to wake up in his own bed, in his own era. And every time he opens them, he has to find some way to get over the shock that the impossible has happened. He's at a loss to understand the phenomena but somehow, he has cryptically slipped into his ancestor's body, his life and into 1862. Everyday he checks to see if he has his own unblemished skin back or if he's still in his, the one with the bullet wound to his shoulder.
He pinches himself repeatedly, still disbelieving this new confusing reality. Damon spends hours and hours looking around the room to see if he can find something that doesn't belong here. Something from the future that wouldn't belong in this world, something that would prove to him that his mind crated this alternative universe. Every day his search proves to be futile, he finds nothing. Not. One. Single. Thing.
Maybe it's because he's a historian that he knows what does and doesn't belong in this era. A jovial thought echoes in his mind. How much would any of his colleagues give for this opportunity? Even though he smiles for a few seconds, fear soon replaces it.
Days pass - still he can't grasp the concept that he's actually spending days in 1862 - he feels better. Elena comes and goes, she works at the hospital and when she comes home she takes care of him. Damon's grateful, but he's also very much aware of the tension and electricity between them. He wonders if she can feel it too? He watches her moving around the house, the sway of her hips and the movement of her skirt when she turns around. Her kind yet mischievous glint that twinkles in her eyes whenever she shares a look with him while doing something else. Every night she tends to his wounds, carefully unwrapping his shoulder, disinfecting it and then she replaces the bandage. He also finds himself worrying about her own health. Between the hospital and tending to him, she has to be tired, he knows she is. The bluish discoloration of her eyes bears witness to it.
He's edgy and tense because even though everything about her draws him in, he can't just... start a relationship with his great-great-great-great uncle's girl, can he? He reluctantly turns his thoughts to something else. Christmas is nearing and he tries to remember what happened at Christmas time in 1862. And then it slams into him like a ton of bricks. Where is his journal? He needs to write an entry and later on there's the letter to Zachary, the one that first mentions Elena. He has to write it to lead his future self or rather him himself down the right path, the one that points to the placid harbor.
"Elena, have you perhaps seen a journal? Was it found? I had it in my pocket before I got shot...maybe?"
Elena pauses what she's doing and thinks about it. With a smile on her face, she answers his question with a little uncertainty. "I think so?"
She gets up and hurries out of the room. He's mesmerized by the sight, she's so spontaneous and so natural. In a matter of a few minutes, she's back bringing with her a neat pile of folded clothing, Damon's journal sitting safely on the top. When she sets it down next to him, he's overwhelmed with emotion as soon as he realizes the familiar diary is new, the cover clean and the pages crisp and white instead of being yellowed with age. He thumbs through the pages in awe. Elena's sitting next to him, curious about what he's thinking as he reacquaints himself with the book's nostalgia.
"Did you get it from someone special?"
Damon pauses, it takes a moment before he's able to answer the question. "My brother. He gave it to me on my 15th birthday."
Elena looks at him curiously and their eyes meet. The air cracks with electricity streaming between them. He feels trapped under her spell but she's the one that backs away first. He wants to be an honorable man but despite his best intentions, he now knows he won't be able to resist this beautiful angel.
December 24, 1862
Dear Diary,
Tomorrow is Christmas but with the war raging, supplies are limited. Still Miss Elena somehow wrangled a Christmas goose. She is going to bake it tomorrow along with some root vegetables that she has in her cellar. She told me that her sister will be joining us along with her twin nephews. Her name is Katherine. Her husband is off bravely defending the South too. Miss Elena brought news from the hospital that on December 20th, a Confederate force attacked a major Union supply base at Holly Springs, Mississippi. Over one million in supplies were seized and a thousand men were taken prisoner.
Only yesterday, she brought news that President Jefferson Davis named General Butler who was formally in charge of New Orleans, an outlaw and an enemy of mankind. The President proclaimed that Butler would be hanged if the Confederates capture him.
There's a light dusting of snow on the ground but her cabin is warm and toasty. I like the sounds and smell of the fire as it consumes the wood. I feel guilty when I see Miss Elena carrying wood in from outside to burn in the fireplace. It's me who should be doing that but she's afraid that the stitches will rip apart if I do. I'm tired now so I will close this entry now.
Sincerely, Damon J. Salvatore.
Christmas passes and while he knows that he should be packing his knapsack to join his regiment, he's been ordered to stay put by not only Elena but also the doctor after he became feverish and pus started to exude from his bullet wound. Despite the increased pain and general feelings of malaise, he's glad that he doesn't have to leave her yet. The mere thought of saying goodbye rips at his insides and more importantly his heart.
It strikes him as funny because it's the most domineering and deeply visceral feeling that he's ever experienced. His thoughts instead should be that he's about to join the Civil War. Many times he's found himself daydreaming about being in his ancestor's shoes and experiencing war but the thought of actually participating in it is terrifying. He knows how to handle a gun, his father made sure he and Stefan took firearm safety courses when they were younger.
He also doesn't want to contemplate that though. In a few short months, Elena may die from illness and he would join her in death in one of the greatest battles in American history. Not that it doesn't concern him, it's actually all he thinks about when he's not thinking about her.
He doesn't write in the diary often but he knows the entry dates by heart and he knows that he can't not do it. He tried to write many times finally succeeding when he picked up the fountain pen and the ink well and put pen to paper.
Elena's arrival interrupts his musing. It's late in the afternoon and it's almost dark outside. He wants to greet her so he gingerly crawls out of bed babying his shoulder as much as he can as he does so. She's in the kitchen when he finally summons the strength to get to her. Weird. She usually calls his name and comes to see him first. Damon follows her and pauses, leaning against the door frame he watches her.
Standing by the window, she doesn't turn around but she must have heard him.
"How is your shoulder?" she asks quietly. He's not sure but is her voice shaking?
"I'm good… Elena? Are you alright?"
She shakes her head and doesn't answer so he closes the space between them and lays his hands on her shoulders. She is shaking. He never touched her like this but the gesture comes to him so naturally. She surprises him even more when she turns to face him. She slips her arms around him and starts crying silently. Damon pulls her as close as possible without even considering anything else.
"What happened? Tell me…," he prompts, concern etched all over his face.
It takes a few minutes before she collects her composure but eventually she starts talking. "They'll take you away. I heard the officers pressuring the doctor to discharge everyone who can hold a weapon. If it wasn't for the infection…"
Damon's blown away by a powerful emotion. It's like it ran through his body leaving him shaken, he needs to hold her tighter to anchor himself to reality. Because she's the only thing real in this madness.
Is she really saying she doesn't want him to leave? Oh how he desires to tell her he will never leave her but he knows better. No matter what happens, their time together is limited. He's never been so painfully aware of it until this moment. She looks up at him, her eyes shining from all the tears she shed and he returns her gaze calmly.
If it was up to me, I'd never leave your side, he's telling her without words. He'd gladly stay in this period of time if it was at all possible. But this life belongs to the past Damon. How can he steal that from him?.
He takes her face in his palms, his thumbs caressing away the remaining wetness. She shakily returns the gesture and her eyes drop to his lips for a second. Damon doesn't hesitate to bend his head and bring their lips together in a gentle kiss, that becomes hungrier the longer their breaths mingle together. Elena lets out an impatient mewl and Damon growls in response. He attacks her mouth, her lips, her teeth, her tongue and she accepts him eagerly. Her hands start traveling over his back in a caressing motion and they stay like that for several minutes, tasting and savoring each other.
Damon doesn't want to take advantage and he's still torn about his role in all of this and maybe she is too. Her kisses become more tentative and loving. Miraculously, the hunger slowly dies and they end up standing in a tight embrace.
There's so much left unsaid but they won't talk tonight. They each lie awake in their own beds contemplating what future has in store for them.
Several days pass before they get as close as they were that evening. Strangely enough, there's no awkwardness between them. They share meals, enjoy quiet evenings and touches. Looks linger but nothing else happens. Elena changes the dressings on his shoulder, repeating the painful procedure as often as necessary, but under her skilled and loving hands, he doesn't even flinch.
"It looks better," a small smile forms but doesn't reach her eyes.
Damon nods, looking at the bandage, "It feels better."
Moments pass and neither of them moves a muscle. The air grows heavy between them, Elena swallows thickly and turns away to leave but Damon reaches for her hand, encircling her wrist to halt her. "Elena... Thank you. I'm sure my arm would be useless or I would be dead if it wasn't for your care."
Elena squeezes his hand but doesn't look at him. "Don't be silly, that's my job."
"Yeah, I know but you always go above and beyond to make me feel better."
She gives a faint smile and wants to move away again but Damon doesn't let her.
"Don't go...," he whispers. "I promise I won't take advantage but I don't want you to think that you must run from me."
"I am not!" Elena denies passionately. "But... I want things... Things, that I can't have."
"You can have everything I have. When it comes to me... well, you already have me."
Elena finally stops, letting him guide her to sit down. He can't fight it, not anymore, the feelings and physical need for her are overwhelming. Desperation is billowing inside of him because he knows what the future is going to bring. If only fate and the universe wasn't against them. Is this how his great-great-great- great uncle felt when they would spend these fleeting moments together?
Probably. But his ancestor had no way of knowing what the future was going to bring, he had hope, hope that they could build a life together when the war was over. Damon pulls her closer and leans his forehead against her shoulder, breathing her in. Elena puts her hand on his face, caresses its scrubby texture and whispers, "I want all of you."
Damon raises his head and looks at her closely. "Elena, it's not necessary, I will wait for you, I want to marry you one day." He's not exactly sure why he's telling her these lies, he has no excuse. At least one of them should hold onto some hope, he can't take that away from her. Is it what Damon told Elena?
Elena shakes her head no, her eyes sad. "No Damon, we don't know if there's any future for us. The only thing that matters is what's here and now. I don't want to leave this world without knowing what it is like to be with you. As much as the thought breaks my heart, if you were to die without it, I will always regret that I wasted this opportunity, that we wasted it."
She gets up and starts unbuttoning her dress, one button after another. Damon's breath hitches, his eyes flicking between her hypnotic ones and her fingers. When she's done, she opens it a crack and he can't even pretend to looking away. He buries his face between her breasts in the gentlest way and she holds him close cradling his head like a baby. He plants small kisses all over her skin, his fingers finding their way under her skirt. Is this how Damon's first time with her went? The thought is unnerving but he stops thinking about it as soon as she raises his head to kiss him.
"Don't think of anything but this..."
It's like she knew the turmoil in his head.
He opens her dress in one swift motion and his mouth glues to her flawless skin, wetting every path it takes. He pushes away her underwear and no part of her body stays untouched. She's on his bed, spread out and waiting and for the love of God he can't remember why he should stop. They become one just seconds later, no thoughts of death or fate ruining the moment.
I will love you forever.
I am forever yours.
I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Flu season has been hell at the hospital and work has been a nightmare. In December my county had almost 600 confirmed cases whereas in December of 2016, there were only 16.
Thank you all so much. I don't have words enough to truly express how grateful Eva and I are for all that you do for us. Thank you for loving Damon and Elena as much as we do, for all of your incredible reviews, the follows and the favorites. You're all the best of the DE world.
And Eva, I love you dearly and would not be here if not for your wide shoulders and incredibly big heart.
Chapter title: 'Behind The Wall of Sleep' by The Smithereens.
Please have a look at 'November Rain'. It will update again either Thursday or Friday.
Have a safe and wonderful day. Until next time.