Okay. So, I want to start by saying this is obnoxiously, horribly, obtrusively, insanely, awfully completely overdue. I wasn't aware until I was browsing through that I'd not updated this story in SO LONG. I've been trying to get started, but I've been so swamped with school, newspaper editing (school), leaving an old job (yay!), getting my new one in writing (double yay!) that the time has just flown by sickeningly fast. However, I'm glad to say that this is me, saying that I'll be aiming to update regularly for this story until it reaches its end. However, back in November, I did do a one shot Delena based on a certain heart-shattering, aching album that crooned to me for hours (yes, it was Adele. How did you know?) until I had my first-ever one shot. I was satisfied. I mean, I cried and hated myself a little, so I was happy. LOL. So if you're interested, look for "When We Were Young" in my stories list. I'm sorry I've been negligent with Return, but I'll make it worth the wait. Thank you for reading and baring with me, guys!
It was so quiet in this room. No people talking, no outside noises. It was serenity. Something that seemed kind of rare, like he couldn't find it anywhere. Even in his head. He recalled the whizzing of bullets and the firing of guns all too easily. The mundane routine of lacing up a pair of boots, folding down his sheets, and making everything pin-neat would be his next task as he rose with the morning sun to begin his day. Elena thought he was just teasing when he was messy around her, but really he just wanted to slack off a little. His feet met the ground and he groaned some, feeling slightly hungover as he came into an upright position. No one was here. He was alone, his things gone, and the room barely lit with sunlight.
Was this the infirmary?
Wait. Damn. His name thundered in his ears, destroying what peace there was and sending a shooting pain through his head. He grimaced as Branson came into view. She'd been the culprit. What did she want?
"Morning!" she chirped, and he threw his hands up at her, shushing her as he put his hands over his ears, but to no avail.
"Damn it, Branson, shut up! You sound like a heard of fucking elephants," he hissed, covering his face.
"I'm glad to see you awake," she started, much quieter this time as she came to a halt a few feet away from him. "I need to tell you that headache is worth it."
"Are you sure?" he grumbled. He laid a hand over his eyes to block out the light that was suddenly beginning to make him nauseous.
"Your gun strap caught the camp infiltrator's ankle when he was trying to run away. Knocked him down. Mikealson took him out. Good job."
Oh yes. That scenario. It was all coming back to him now. The gun, the ass end of the other guy's gun—and here he was.
"No problem. But next time, I don't plan to be a dead body during the whole thing." He laughed some, though his head was really killing him. It felt like someone was driving nails through it. He kid of wished Branson would take a hike so he could try sleeping for another three days.
"I do have some news for you, though. And I'm glad you're awake. Otherwise I would have had to call your wife. This is day two you've been out cold." Damon shook his head. Two days?
"Do /not/ tell her. That's more for her to worry about and she's got enough on her plate right now. I'm fine. Nothing to freak over."
"I'm not!" she answered quickly, "But, I do have to tell you: There was a call that was for you a couple days ago. I don't know what happened, but they're sending you back to the States."
His headache suddenly disappeared and was replaced with shock. Back home? He looked to Branson, the notorious hardass, and she was /smiling./
"You better not be fucking with me," he said deadpan.
"No, I'm not. You leave tomorrow. They asked for you but you were checked out." Damon laughed thick, grasping this. Really? Out of this hell hole? Home. With Elena. God, he couldn't wait to tell her this.
Tossing another empty food bag into the trash by her feet, Elena sighed, worn out from the early morning's activities. Two hours of filing and somewhat teaching Caroline the ropes of her desk job had all but wiped her out. This morning alone she discovered that her baby body this round was going to be tougher on her. She wanted to eat constantly and she was gaining—both of which she'd avoided the last time. She tried to ignore the weight gain, but that craving for biscuits at noon was hard to buck. Usually, it didn't come to fruition, considering that by lunch time, breakfast was over. But the days she got it, she was dutiful on pigging out.
"You know it's a boy when you eat lots of salt, right?" Caroline would prod as she flipped through a mama-to-be webpage. Elena rolled her eyes. Caroline was sold on any of those old wives' tales. She was not.
"I'll know what it is when I go to the doctor's care. Those tales are bogus. I ate a lot of salt with Mary Jo, too."
"Yeah, but this time you're gaining weight around your front. That's another sign for boys." Elena almost choked on her drink.
"Excuse me?! I'm not gaining /that/ much." She shifted in her seat, wondering if she was really not noticing or if Care was just picking out the worst tales to tell her.
"'Lena, I wouldn't try to get back in that LBD for a /long/ time if I were you." Elena huffed.
"Forget you, Care. I—" The computer on her desk started to chime and Damon's name popped up on the screen. She drug the monitor over to her and answered it. Damon popped up on the screen, a smile as big as she'd ever seen it on his face.
"Hey!" Caroline waved behind her. Damon chuckled.
"Morning, Blondie." He shifted his blue gaze to her. "Morning, babe."
"Morning, sweetheart. How are you?"
"I'm doing great, actually," he beamed, peering down at something on the table before him. "So, I got something today, and I think you might be interested." Elena rose a brow, and she felt Caroline lean over her shoulder.
"Well?" she snapped as Damon kept shuffling whatever it was on the table. She knew he was purposefully leaving them hanging, but there wasn't anything she could do but wait.
"Hold on! I'm working on it. Can't read this damn print."
"Old man," Elena tittered, earning her a steely glare. After another few seconds and a testy sigh from Caroline, Damon held up a piece of paper, a letter, and pointed at a specific line. He pulled it closer to the camera so they could see, and as it focused, she read it aloud:
Dear Mr. Salvatore,
I write you in regard to your current deployment overseas. It was brought to light of your recent medical history concerning retrograde amnesia. Considering that the amount of memory loss extends to points that erase the basic training you received, I have achieved in having enforced your honorary discharge from the US Army effective immediately. You will be escorted back to American land no later than one week after this letter's delivery. On behalf of the country and its citizens, we thank you for your years as a dedicated soldier of the United States of America.
Signed,
Elijah Mikealson
Elena was slack-jawed, amazed. He'd done it. Mikealson had gotten him discharged, just like he said. She was so expecting the other outcome. Her heart sank in pure relief. She owed him, his sister. She wanted to call them right now and just gush and kiss their feet for doing such a thing.
"I'm coming home, babe!" Damon raved. "They're putting me on a plane tomorrow morning!"
"Oh my god. He did it!" Elena was close to tears she was so overjoyed. Caroline squealed in her ear, throwing her arms around her shoulders and squeezing her so hard that, for a moment, breathing was impossible.
"I'm so happy, Damon! You're coming home!"
"For good this time!" he added, stuffing all his papers back into an envelope. "I can't wait to see you, Elena. You and Care, and Bonnie. And Stefan. That bastard hasn't answered my calls in a month."
"He's in New York trying to get his deal worked out, babe. Cut him some slack," she smiled, brushing her cheek. "So you'll be here tomorrow?" Her mind began to reel. This was it. This was her chance.
"Damn right, babe. I've missed you." She grinned, kissing two fingers and then flashing them to the screen.
"I love you, and I'll see you soon. /Very/ soon."
"You, too, Gorgeous. I love you."
"Go pack your bags, Damon Salvatore. We're ready to see you here again," Caroline chimed in, reminding Elena she was still there on her shoulder, watching and in tears just as much as she was.
"I'm out. See you pretty ladies later." Elena put up a hand in a wave as the signal from the other side died, and she turned to Caroline.
"We /have/ to throw a party. A 'you're never leaving us again' welcome home party!"
"That's the best one yet," Elena grinned. "With all his favorites."
"We'll have everything—cake, beer—whatever. Make a list?" Elena leaned over her bag to seek out a notepad that was buried down in it somewhere. But as she found it and passed it to Caroline, she froze at the sight of the bulky, overflowing trapperkeeper that was hunkered down in her work tote.
"We've got to call everyone," Elena started, flipping the binder of wedding plans. A cut out in the shape of a baby bed floated to the ground as she landed it on the table. "The florist, the baker, the officiator. Bon, Matt, Stefan." Caroline looked at her, puzzled.
"What? Why?"
"I know what his welcome home party is going to be. It's what he's wanted for ages now: our wedding."
"Wedding?! Elena, wait. Let's think about this. He'll be here in hours. There's no way we can put this together. Not how you want it."
"No, Care. We can. I promise." Dealing her a stack of order forms, she began to blow Caroline away.
"What in the—are these completed?" She flipped through each one, reading her friend's careful, pin-neat writing on each page. "Elena—"
"Just take them where they need to go and they'll do the rest. It's not much. The florist and the baker can have it ready by tomorrow afternoon. And the officiator is…relatively new. Not popular. I picked him for that reason." Caroline could only stare, dumbfounded. Elena laughed.
"Care. Let's go. Call Bonnie, I'll start cleaning—"
"Oh no. No no no. You're not cleaning. You're pregnant." She shoved the papers back into her hands. "/You/ do the calling. I'll start cleaning and when Bonnie gets here and has her heart attack, we'll start on the rest. Gosh, 'Lena, you're insane." Elena only grinned, because she knew this was it. They'd talked about it for months, before he left and after. Her greeting to him was usually, "So for the wedding…" followed by some myriad of options for something. But at this point, none of it was going to matter. No fancy dinners, no huge guest lists like Damon insisted she deserved. She just wanted them and their closest friends, a cake and a dance. A new life together—what better way to start it?