AN: OKAY! I'm SO sorry I've left you guys hanging. Not intentional, I promise. I got tied up with finals and projects and insane college matter. I'm done for the summer, and I'm THANKFULLY starting my internship for the break at a local community theatre. I'm so excited! Mostly because I'm going to have more time to devote to this story and my other current babies that are growing in the belly of my documents folder. This chapter is just a break from Damon and Elena putting up with one another. They have to confide somewhere other than one another, and it might not end as they hoped. I hope you enjoy!

A kettle's whistle screamed through the house, but only a moment before it was pulled from the stove. Bonnie dropped two bags of tea leaves into each mug in front of her and covered them in hot water before carrying them into the den where her best friend was sitting, a trail of the aromatic herbs inside following her. Her off-day had gladly been occupied by Elena, who called her last minute with a need for just a chat. "Like old days," she'd said. She sat the steaming teas on the coffee table, greeting Elena with a smile as she sat.

"Where's Marie?" Elena spoke as she blew gently on the hot liquid. It smelled amazing—another personal Bonnie Bennett tea blend.

"Grams took her for the day. You know she jumps at every chance she gets," Bonnie laughed softly, curling her hands around the hot ceramic of her own mug. Silently, she was glad. Work had been horrible for her the past week, and Marie was teething and fussy. She was at a breaking point.

"I don't blame her. She's the best baby," Elena smiled. Bonnie snorted.

"You think that until her three AM fits. Anyways, I haven't seen you since the dinner two weeks ago. How are you and Damon? Things okay?" Elena balked. She slightly wished that subject wouldn't have come up, but what did she expect? Of course it would be the first rung on the ladder. She quickly held up a finger, realizing she was throwing her friend on the tracks, but who was Bonnie going to tell? Especially about this. It'd be out before long, anyways.

"Actually," she began, "I need to enlighten you on something." Elena set down her coffee cup in a prim little gesture, a smug look of knowledge on her face to cover the one that was excited about breezing over Bon's question. Bonnie raised a brow. A curious, achingly suspicious brow. Elena wiggled in her seat.

"You did /not/ hear this from me. Don't tell a /soul/. But I saw Caroline at work Tuesday and she told me that she's been seeing Tyler for the past month or so." Bonnie's mouth all but fell to the floor.
"Caroline?! /Please/ tell me you're kidding! She...and him?!"

"I know! Caroline hated him in high school." Elena laughed. Bonnie shook her head, grinning with absolute astonishment.

"With every bone in her body! Oh come /on,/ Elena. Tell me what you know." Elena rolled her eyes, realizing Bon was totally giving her the distraction she needed. Damon's recoil and broodiness since her breakdown with him about Mary Jo had really made her upset. Damon was upset, and she wasn't even sure what else to say to him that she already hadn't. He wasn't happy with himself. His nightmares came back. And now, he was shutting her out. Again.

"I don't know anything besides she's being his 'friend.' Whatever that means." Before she knew it, Bonnie's phone suddenly appeared out of nowhere and she began tapping the screen. Elena's eyes grew.

"Pft. /I'll/ find out." A hand reached out, grabbing at it.

"Bonnie, don't! She'll kill me!"

"For telling me? /No./ I'll keep /you/ safe. She owes me a call anyways." Elena hung her head, staring at the ceiling. She didn't think Care was ready for Bonnie to know yet. Care wasn't ready for /Elena/ to know yet. And if Bonnie's story wasn't good enough, Elena would be the only other explanation.

"Well, you didn't hear from me. I never had this conversation. I'm washing my hands of it." Elena even held up her palms up, as if to show she was for real. She best go before Caroline made a trip home and spotted her car in the drive. The chances of that happening? Slim. The chances of it happening to Elena? 9 out of 10. She best split while Bonnie was involved with Caroline. "And also, I should run. It's getting late and Damon's probably wondering what the plan for dinner is." Bonnie's head shot up from her phone, looking suddenly a little sad.

"Already? You just got here! And it's not even four yet. And, you're avoiding my question," she threw in, causing her friend to slump a little in defeat. "People don't avoid my questions. Ask your brother." She spun around to see her tapping the phone against her palm. Elena feigned a careless shrug.

"Elena..."

"We're...okay. I guess." No use avoiding it. She'd just drive her nuts until she did tell.

"You guess." Brow went up.

"I /know./" Elena corrected herself with a wag of a finger and a nod of her head. "I know we're okay."

"Mm. So you totally decided to spend your first day off in weeks with your best friend instead of your partially-handicapped, amnesiac husband who's just got back from war after fifteen months of deployment? Doesn't sound very you to me, E." Elena stared at her, opening her mouth to speak but no words wanted to come out.

"I—I can't just come see my best friend?" she stammered, folding her arms as if to justify herself. "I needed some girl time." Bonnie stared at her critically, tapping a judging finger against the back of her phone.

"What's wrong?" she finally asked. Elena's dancing gaze told her that something was up. Her horrible lying, to add.

Elena sighed, dropping her purse back onto the table. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to decide where to start. Of all people she should just spill to Bonnie. She knew him almost better than Elena. /Almost./

"I don't know, Bon. It's so offsetting how he's forgotten everything, but hasn't. He knows everything about me, but he doesn't know /me./" Bonnie rose a brow.

"What do you mean?"

"I...I don't know. He's really been upset with himself, too. He's trying, he really is. Things keep coming up to him..."

"Like what things?" Elena traced the grain of the wooden surface with the pad of her finger, remembering the face of her husband from a few nights before. It still threw a javelin through her to think about it. She was mad at herself for not telling. She should have known better, but she thought she was just doing right.

"When I came home from work Tuesday, Damon had found the first ultrasound I had when I found out I was pregnant. I don't know what hurt worse, Bonnie: Having to tell him about it like he wasn't there when we heard her first heartbeat or the look on his face when I told him about how he acted." Bonnie slightly rolled her shoulders, thoughts running through her mind she would never tell Elena, simply because they'd make her furious.

"They're the truth though, Elena. He needs to know. About everything. The war, the baby, his family. It's his /life./ And if he never remembers it, at least he needs to know about it."

"I know, but he's so different now. He's like-"

"Damon from high school. Sans the attitude." Elena laughed a little. Bonnie too.

"Yeah, actually."

"Iraq changed him, Elena. Damon's one of my best friends, and I knew at dinner the other night that he wasn't the same. Or, as the same as before."

"But he still is. God, Bonnie, this is so confusing," Elena huffed, plopping back down in the sofa. "He can pop up with the most random things about us and I haven't said a thing. And then basic things he knows nothing about. Like the other day, for instance. He made my coffee, just like I like it, and I never told him. And he folded all of my clothes the way I fold them. I never told him how. He's calling me angel and for the first time in /ever/ Gorgeous Gilbert the other day. He /knows/, Bonnie, he just doesn't...he doesn't know it's me. But that Damon that I've seen only half as long as I've known him...he's not there. He's not as distant. He's...he's sweeter than before, not that I thought that was possible." Bonnie smiled at her.

"Has he told you he loves you yet?" Elena laughed lowly, not out of humor but at the thrill of the memory. Her heart raced a little. God. It was like dating him all over again.

"He did, and it was the nicest thing I'd ever heard him say. I was so scared that he wouldn't."

"How couldn't he? He was in love the second he saw you." Bonnie leaned towards Elena with a grin. "/You're welcome,/ by the way." Elena chuckled.

"I still don't know how we worked. I hated him so much in high school."

"Everyone did. Except the ones that were spreading their legs for him," Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Then how could you hate that?" Elena held up a hand with a smirk, not wanting to think about that.

"Tell me what to do, Bonnie. Please? He's back to doing it again. He's not talking, and it's scaring me. I don't want him to go back to being that way. Not that I won't love him, but he's been so happy." Bonnie bit her lip, contemplating, before she looked back up to her scared friend. She wanted to help her, but Damon was such a case. He was a damn near impossible nut to crack. Elena could do it, though.

"Be patient. Don't freak out. He's just overwhelmed. He found out he's a /dad./ That's huge. You have to let him take it his own way." Elena nodded, dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. Patience. She could do that. Again.

–

The pads of Damon's fingers traced over the lettering pressed into the metal in his pocket. How he'd gotten these, he'd probably never know. But he did know what he was planning to do with them. He could maybe at least tell that much about himself. The tags had been tucked away in the pockets of his uniform that hung in the closet, and when he found them it told him where to go.

That's what landed him on the front porch of the Lockwood Home. Damon knocked on door of the Mayor's Mansion. It rung against his knuckles with a dull ache that told him its age. A solid, sturdy, gorgeous house that was a heirloom of the Lockwood family, it housed four generations of mayors to Mystic Falls over the course of its history. Damon remembered that from his history class in 10th grade, and the trip they took here, Tyler in tow, who didn't find it too awesome that he had to tour his own house for a pass/fail grade.

When the door opened, he wasn't quite ready to see what he saw. Tyler was there, but in no way was it the Tyler he remembered. This Tyler was tired-looking. Unshaven, dirty from some activity outside. Careless. His droopy, intoxicated eyes raked over the man in his doorway, flying fully open when he realized who he was.

"Damon?" He leaned against the doorframe, Damon able to see across his shoulder that the house inside hadn't changed a bit from that day in high school. "What can I help you with?"

"May I come in?" Damon spoke, quietly, not sure if he was ready for what he'd thought about discussing on the way here. Tyler hesitated, like he honestly didn't want /anyone/ there, and turned, vacating the doorway for Damon as he turned into the foyer.

"Drink?" He jabbed a finger at the mini-hall that opened into a lavish kitchen at the opposite end, but Damon shook his head.

"No, thanks. I'm just here to...clear some things. I wanted to talk to you about it." Tyler fell into a much-loved wingbacked chair, a beer already on the table before him. He looked to Damon, gesturing him to take the one opposite him, and Damon did.

"I'd ask what you want to talk about, but that'd be a waste of breath." Damon nodded, seeing Tyler's skip-the-fluffy-sugar-coating-bullshit attitude hadn't gone anywhere.

"You haven't changed at all have you?" Damon laughed a little. Tyler scratched the back of his neck, uneasy.

"I wish I could say that. How've you been? I was going to come by, but uh...I just can't get there it seems," he said in a smaller voice, eyes flitting reluctantly to the half-empty bottle in front of him.

"Don't worry about it. I'm decent."

"Caroline told me you were still trying to pick back up." Damon nodded.

"That's sort of why I'm here. You were my best friend in high school, Ty. I don't know where we stand now, but I'm hoping you might fill in some cracks for me." Damon paused, wringing his hands almost nervously. "Even with your mom, if it's okay with you." Across from him, Tyler rolled the neck of the beer bottle between his fingers, contemplating. It'd been almost two years. He should talk. He really should. And who better to? He cleared his throat, drawing his brows together almost like it hurt him to agree.

"I'll...I'll help where I can, Damon." Damon nodded, not quite sure where he wanted to begin.

"Can you tell me where we stand?" His brows cinched together, wondering if he was even really a welcome guest. He hadn't considered that before he came here. Lockwood rolled his shoulders.

"We're...friends. I haven't seen you since before Mom died, actually."

"Great," Damon mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really was a dick, wasn't he? "Tell me about from the time I deployed until I saw you last. Everything." Tyler frowned.

"Shouldn't you be asking Elena this, not me?" Damon kind of threw up his hands.

"She's telling me things, but in her own time. And I'm tired of waiting. I'm not saying she's hiding anything, but she did hide Mary Jo from me. I'm just...I want to be sure." Tyler nodded slowly.

"Okay, then. Real talk? You met her at Bonnie's Christmas party like a week or so before you went to basic. You came back, you two got serious, quick. You left for deployment." Tyler scratched the back of his neck. "You changed a hell of a lot between one deployment and another. You really cut yourself off, emotionally, from everyone. I don't know what you saw over there, man. You kind of went hermit for a while after you came back that time." Damon studied him as he spoke, as if everything he spoke was a treasure. And in a way it was.

"Did I ever hurt Elena?" Tyler nearly jumped out of his seat.

"What?"

"You heard me. Did I ever hurt Elena?"

"You're still breathing, aren't you? If you had, Jeremy and Bonnie would have hung you. Why in the hell would you think that?"

"I'm a pretty shitty husband, Lockwood. I want to fix all I've done, if I can. And to do that, I need /you/ to tell me everything." Tyler scratched the back of his neck, taking a breath.

"Okay. Honestly, I can't say. I know that at one time you were like this wall. Elena was really upset, and she asked me to try and talk you out of whatever it was, and I failed. She was scared."

"And with the baby..."

"You were just as bad, and a total complete, utter idiot that at one point, I nearly beat your ass. But I didn't think it would be fit for you to go to your daughter's funeral looking like a lost boxing match."

"I appreciate that," Damon muttered.

"You really were a shitty husband. I don't know about now, but you were. Maybe you should take this whole memory thing as a hint."

"Yeah. It's seeming that way." Damon sighed, having heard enough for today.

"Hey, Damon. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I know you're short on the memories and all... But do you remember?" Tyler swallowed, not quite sure if he was ready to hear from the guy that witnessed his mother's death. He wrung his hands, waiting anxiously. Across from him, Damon rolled his lips, trying to decide what to tell him. Did he remember? Did he?

"That's a good question, Ty," Damon spoke weakly, eyes narrowed in deep thought. "I don't know anything anymore. I don't know my wife, I don't know the house where I live. My dad is dead and my mother is on the verge of being a damn loon. I wake up and learn all these things. Hell, Tyler, I didn't even know I was in the military until I started having nightmares." Damon took a breath. "I don't know for honest what happened to Carol. But I see it in my dreams, on a loop. And what's in my head...I can't help but think it to be true." He reached into his pocket and found the strand, unfolding it to hold it up to Tyler. He stared at it, almost terrified that he was offering it to him.

"I don't know how these landed in my possession, but I'm pretty sure I was bringing them back to you." Tyler carefully reached out and took them, almost like they would crumble in his grasp if he held them the wrong way.

"God...I..."

"Don't say it. I just...I wanted you to have these because I'm pretty sure..." /that if my dreams are true, you don't have anything left of your mom./ That's what he wanted to say, but how fucking horrible would that be? Damon fidgeted, wishing this damn dream would vacate his mind. Permanently. He rose, Tyler still tracing the letter-stamped metal with a thumb, lost it seemed, until he got up too and gave Damon a hug.

"You really don't know how thankful I am for this, Damon."

"I hear it's been rough for you, but you know Carol would kick your ass if she saw you in her parlor room with a beer." Damon snatched it off the table, examining the label. "Crappy one, no less."

"I'm working on it," Tyler nodded. "Really, I am. I've got a little help. I'm getting my shit together." Damon clapped Tyler on the shoulder.

"I'm proud of you. It's always easy to find the bottom of a bottle."
"Yeah, but trying getting out of it."

"You'll do great, bro. And, thank you for being real. I needed it." Tyler nodded.

"Anytime, D. I'll help where I can."

Damon left the Lockwood Mansion with a killer urge to kick himself from one side of town to the other, and an equal part satisfaction for what he'd just done for Tyler. He needed closure from the death of his mother. A memorial service that was probably a folded flag and an endless array of flowers was probably what he got. Not the satisfaction of seeing his mother in a coffin. How familiar did that sound. But Damon was a mess. The worst thing he'd ever done was enlist. It scarred him. It scarred him so deep that it began to dig into Elena and hurt her, too. He wasn't strong. He was weak. That was his life. Elena didn't want him to know it. She didn't want him to think badly of himself. That was his only explanation. Why else would she? The Damon he knew would be ashamed of himself, but obviously the Damon he knew had been something he wasn't. That in itself tore him up. She deserved a better person than that. He just wondered if Elena knew that.