Trees rustled in the breeze, the sun definitely not coming out today. It was forecast to rain, but that didn't hold them back. Well, didn't hold /Damon/ back. He'd drug Elena out to the edge of the Old Wood. She'd begged him to wait, but he- per usual –wouldn't listen. He wanted to go. He'd had cabin fever all week, being home alone. The doctor had okayed him for cautious exercise, but to Damon that was just as down-putting as none at all. He'd been without a work-out for weeks and he was past the point of missing it. He /needed/ it.

"Damon, it's going to /rain/. We'll get soaked."

"So? Free shower. Don't complain," he smirked, throwing his cane into the bed of his truck as he went around to meet Elena. She stood, arms crossed, looking rather unimpressed. "You're supposed to outhike me, remember?" She almost cackled at that.

"Don't think that's going to work with me, babe. I know better."

"What?" he asked, trying to look innocent.

"'What?' You trying to make me get all competitive. You know I am." She shifted from foot to foot, rolling her eyes. "I'm not going to race a cripple. It's unfair to kick one's ass when they're at a disadvantage."

"Ooo-kay," he laughed, tossing her the water bottle that sat in the cup holder of the door. "I'll save it for another day. But we're still going." Elena let out a heavy sigh.

"Damon, you /just/ lost your cane. Can we not wait another week?"

"Elena, if I wait another week my brain is going to turn to mush from being in that house. No, we cannot wait." She huffed again, and he pecked her on the cheek.

"Come on, gorgeous. Burning daylight." He started down the trail, a limp still in his gait. Elena followed, mumbling "stubborn ass" under her breath.

They trekked down the path that was slowly becoming overgrown. Few people hiked here like they used to. Across town, the city had made a new one that went through town, biker friendly. Damon hated it. He always came here instead. He reached out, taking Elena's hand as she reached a step up onto the cliff of the wood-line. She hardly had to make an effort. A few drops landed on her bare shoulders and she flicked them at Damon.

"Hey, 'Lena."

"Mmm?" She wove past a briar thicket, a few feet behind him.

"Here's a question for you: When are we getting married?" She nearly tripped on a stick, completely not expecting such a question from him.

"I'm sorry?" she begged, looking to where Damon was- a good twenty feet ahead. He was going to outhike her crippled.

"You heard me. When are we getting married? You can't tell me we haven't set a date yet." Damon turned to see her, offering a hand as they scaled another washed-away hill.

"Well," Elena started, getting her footing on the ground beside him. "We...kind of didn't. Yet. You suggested eloping, and I wanted something small. Just us, your family, Bonnie and Jeremy and Caroline. But we just haven't gotten to it."

"Think about it," he shrugged, but he hadn't let her hand go. He pulled her with him through a thinning bunch of trees, leaving the sound of crunching dead leaves and twigs in their wake. She was dumbfounded and she really didn't know why. Maybe because she just assumed this was like starting over when it wasn't. He was doing the same thing she wanted to. He was moving forward.

"I have," she piped up as they stopped at the foundation of old Veritas. It wasn't completely gone, but going inside wasn't the smartest thing. It looked that a good wind could knock it down, but none of the thunderstorms they had ever seemed to be enough to wash it away. Elena cleared her throat, looking up to Damon. "I did think about it. I don't want anything huge. Just the people we love."

"No fancy catering, frilly dress, all that?" He smirked as he sat on the brick porch steps. Elena laughed.

"No, I don't need any of that. I just need you." She joined him, leaning her head on his shoulder as she got comfortable. "And I don't do frilly." Damon chuckled.

"So when is this happening?" Elena rolled her shoulders.

"I don't really know. When do you want to?"

"Two weeks?" Elena's eyes almost bugged out of her head. Was he insane?

/"Two weeks?/ Damon, it's a wedding, not a night out. Try later."

"What about the second weekend in September?" He rose his hands as if to challenge her, but was being playful. "It's so random, no one could be busy then." He felt Elena tense on his arm, falling deathly silent. He nudged her, but she just shook her head.

"Not in September. Just...wait." He frowned.

"Why not September?"

"Just /not./ I hate that month." Elena swallowed thickly and rose from her place beside him. She forced a smile, pecked his cheek, and pulled on his hand. Rain was beginning to pour in buckets, and she wanted to go back to the truck. Damon eyed her, seeing her change in demeanor.

"Come on. I need to start dinner." He did as she asked, but again didn't let her go. He studied her a second. Those brown eyes refused to meet his gaze. Elena led him back through a different thicket of forest, completely silent the whole time. Rain pelted them, and by the time they got back into Damon's vehicle, there wasn't an inch of them that wasn't drenched. Even then she didn't speak, and Damon was confused as hell.

"Are you okay, babe?" Elena snapped her attention to him and nodded.

"Oh. Yeah," she smiled, but it didn't go any further than her lips. "What did you want for dinner?" She was trying to change the subject. Fuck. He wasn't about to push her, as much as he wanted to. There was something she wasn't telling him. He stared at the road ahead of them, watching for the turn to where they lived now.

"Whatever is good with me. I'll even eat leftovers. You don't have to cook." Elena frowned some.

"Are you sure? You hate left-"

"Elena, it's not going to kill me," he chuckled. She smiled for real this time. Damon shut off the engine as he parked in the drive.

"I love you, but thank God. I'm freezing." She jumped from the cab of the truck and beelined for the door. Inside, she began picking off layer by layer of wet clothes, dropping them into the washer. She was already cold-natured. This didn't help at all. Just as she wrapped herself in her robe from the menagerie of clothes drying on hangers nearby, Damon stepped in. He looked broody, his eyes focused so intently on her she actually stopped.

"What?"

"Did I say something to upset you back there?" Elena tied the sash on her robe.

"God, Damon, could you drop it?" she almost bit, throwing a dose of laundry soap in the barrel. "It's just a thing I have."

"You /hate/ September. There has to be a reason." He chucked his shirt in the washer, flinging water across the wall behind it. Elena let out a harsh breath, glaring at it.

"Just...I'll tell when I'm ready," she spoke calmly as she could, irritated that he was still harping on this.

"Ele-"

"/When. I'm ready,"/ she repeated, even going so far to throw him a look of pleading as she shut the washer lid. "Please." He studied her for a long moment before nodding. She stretched up on her toes, planting a kiss on his chin.

"Go sit down, babe. I'll bring your plate to you." He smiled slightly at her. It still bothered him that she wouldn't say what was bothering her. She trusted him, didn't she? She knew she could tell him whatever it was. He watched as she went down the hallway and into the kitchen, and he heard as she started rattling pots and pans in the cabinets. It wouldn't bother him so much if he didn't think she was hiding something from him. Those pretty eyes of hers barely would look at him, and when they did there was something there. Sadness. Guilt. He couldn't quite tell, but it was driving him crazy. But Elena would tell him. Just like she said.