A/N: Wow. Sorry for the delay. But hey, I was at BloodyCon in Bonn last weekend and hung out with Ian, Dawn, Zach and Paul, so I hope that counts as a good excuse ;) Also, I struggled so much with this, so please have mercy on me! One last thing: I was blown away by everyone's reviews for last chapter! It was my most reviewed chapter ever so thank you thank you thank you for that. You guys are the best! I hope I don't let you down too much with this one :)
P.S.: Still don't own TVD, as if that wasn't obvious…
The seventh chapter, in which our heroine discovers the secret meaning of Simon & Garfunkel lyrics
Elena was lying in bed, staring at the moon outside her window. She couldn't get what Vicki had said the night before out of her head. She felt like she had to talk about it.
"Vicki?" she asked quietly, turning around slowly to face the woman lying next to her.
"Yeah?" the other woman opened her eyes with surprising alertness.
"I just… Is everything okay? With you and Tyler?" Elena felt intrusive now, but this was what friends did, right?
"Yeah, sure. Perfect," came Vicki's hurried reply.
"I don't mean to pry. It's just… what you said yesterday about how there was marriage and then there was marriage… It just sounded like maybe you need someone to talk to. And I just… You know, I'm here. In case you do want to talk."
"Thanks E, that's very sweet. But really, I'm fine." The sad look in Vicki's eyes spoke a different language than her words and for the first time in a long time Elena felt the need to be there for her sister in law, even if that meant insisting. Truth be told, she didn't feel very close to her, but if she was being honest, this woman was probably the closest thing to a friend she had.
"Vicki, come on. What's going on?" she asked, reaching out to take her friend's hand in hers reassuringly.
"Don't worry, Elena, we're fine. It's just… we're not like you guys, you know. And sometimes I just wish we were."
"What do you mean?" Elena asked, dumbfounded.
"Ty and I, we... we can't be without each other, you know?"
Elena smiled. That didn't sound like a problem to her.
"I mean… we fight all the time. I want to kill him sometimes. I mean really kill him. He makes me so mad." Elena gave her friend a lopsided smirk that was half playful and half chiding. "But I can't," Vicki continued. "I can't be without him. It's like we don't function on our own."
"That's good, isn't it? That's love, needing the other person so much."
"Is it? Shouldn't love be being with someone because you want to be with them and not because you can't be without them?"
"Maybe it's a bit of both?" Elena hazarded.
"Like you and Mason?" Vicki asked.
"I don't know about that," Elena replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
"You guys are perfect together. You are perfect, you have perfect children, a perfect life."
"Is that what it looks like?" Elena asked, getting more and more uncomfortable.
"Yes," was Vicki's simple reply before the two of them fell into silence. Elena was surprised. Of course she did everything to seem happy and to make her marriage look perfect, but she would have thought her sister in law would see right through it. They spent almost every day together after all. There was no one she was closer to. Right now that thought made her sad. Then again, that was the way she had chosen to live. Superficial friendships were easier to uphold and less dangerous. They didn't require as much emotional investment, nor as much soul baring. "I still wonder about it sometimes," Vicki continued.
"About what?" Elena asked, confused.
"If he would have still married me, had I not been pregnant," Vicki explained.
"Of course he would have. He loves you, Vicki. You both thrive off all this drama and intensity, but like you said, he wouldn't know what to do without you. You fight all the time, but you're still together. That means something, doesn't it?" Elena had no doubt that her brother and sister in law were deeply in love. She didn't understand how anyone could live in a relationship such as theirs. Deep, unwavering love for each other was the only explanation she could come up with. If they didn't love each other, they would surely have called it quits a long time ago.
"Sometimes I think he only stays married to me because he knows it pisses off Carol." Elena had to chuckle at Vicki's theory, though if either of the boys wanted to piss off their mother, staying married to their wives was the best way. She didn't approve of either of them.
"He could piss her off a lot easier," Elena said with a smile. "That woman is never happy."
"No, she isn't, is she?" Vicki let her eyes drift to the ceiling. "How could she be, with her precious son married to some small-town hick?" Elena had never known that Vicki was troubled by her roots. She came from a tiny spec on the map and had moved to the city to work in a diner and try to get lucky in life. Then she had met Tyler, a rich and handsome young man from a good family and with a good job, and they had fallen for each other instantly. And hard. Suddenly he took her out to fancy events and restaurants, bought her nice clothes and vacationed with her in Europe. Elena knew the feeling. Suddenly belonging with the rich and powerful. Vicki sure was considered newly rich, but she threw the best charity events, earning her respect in the community in her own right. "She'd probably be happy if he actually dumped me for his secretary. Skanky bitches move in packs." Elena had to giggle before turning serious again.
"Do you really think he's cheating on you?" Elena asked, hoping that she wasn't going too far.
"I don't know. Probably not," Vicki conceded. "Then again, he might just be too smart for me. He knows that if I ever caught him that would be his end." She smiled sadly. "You and Mason would never cheat on each other, would you? That must be nice, to be so certain."
Elena swallowed thickly. "You shouldn't always compare your relationship with Tyler to Mason and me. We're just different. We're not necessarily happier."
"You always seem so happy," Vicki said, making Elena think back to the conversation she'd had earlier that night with Damon, while they were cooking. The fact that her friend bought her act should relieve her, but at this moment it brought tears to her eyes. The only thing she could come up with was to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"Does it still make you sad?" she asked carefully.
"What?"
"Losing the baby?" Elena knew that this was probably a touchy subject. They had never really talked about it back then but in the spirit of being there for her friend tonight, she figured she should ask.
"Oh, no. Not really. I mean… Let's be honest. I would be a terrible mother," Vicki tried to play it off, but Elena could tell that the question had made her uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry. It wasn't my place. I just… I want you to know that I'm here for you. For whatever," Elena tried to explain.
"I know. You're the sweetest bitch around," Vicki responded, grinning slightly. "So, tomorrow we get to call home?"
"Yes," Elena replied, feeling hopeful and dreading the phone call at the same time. They had decided to call home once a week and never for very long. Tomorrow was the first call and Elena wasn't sure what to expect. She had believed that being away from her husband would make her miss him, but she found that, already feeling very distant from him at home, being actually away from him, even if only for a few days, had only increased the feeling of dissociation. While hoping that speaking to him on the phone would give them a chance to reconnect, she was also afraid it might not.
"I'm tired, E. I need to sleep," Vicki said while grabbing a sleeping pill off her nightstand.
"Sure," Elena answered. "Good night." And with that the two women turned around, leaving Elena to stare at the moon outside her window again. She should sleep as well, she should certainly not think about her bodyguard. But try as she might, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering. Back to earlier that evening.
They had been spending the day pretty much as they had planned on spending every day, tanning on the beach. Vicki was reading that book again but still didn't seem too entranced by it. Elena was relaxing her muscles from the exertion earlier that morning and every once in a while glanced over to her children who were building a sand castle with their nanny. When the sun began to set and Elena felt the first cooler evening breezes stroke the sun-heated skin of her belly and send slight shivers up her bikini clad body, Vicki got up to get something to drink. So when she felt a shadow fall across her face and a body sitting down next to her, she figured her friend had simply returned. Up until a deep, male voice startled her out of her reverie.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he questioned and when Elena opened her eyes and turned her head she saw him staring out at the ocean where the sun was slowly turning orange and beginning to tinge the first fizzy clouds in a pale pink.
"Yes," she agreed. "Very beautiful. Thank you for taking us here."
"It was the safest place I could think of," he replied, his gaze still resting on the horizon. "Where's your friend?" he finally questioned.
"Uhm, I don't know. She just wanted to get something to drink," Elena answered, looking back at the house with uncertainty.
"Well, looks like it's just me and you then," he said with a smile, turning to her for the first time.
"No, Caroline's over there with my children," she started, turning her head back to the little group that was now decorating their construction with seashells.
"I was talking about the cooking," he elaborated with a grin.
"What?" Elena asked, still not getting his drift.
"You ladies volunteered yesterday to help me make dinner tonight, remember? And since your friend's not here, that just leaves you." And with that he got up and held his hand out to her to help her stand up as well.
When Elena got back to her room to freshen up after the day spent at the beach, she heard the shower running. So that was where Vicki had disappeared to, probably intentionally escaping the chore awaiting her. So instead of getting cleaned up herself, Elena threw over a light kaftan and went back downstairs. As she entered the kitchen, her bodyguard was already standing by the cupboards, taking out ingredients for their meal. Earlier she had been thankful that he was wearing a shirt. But who was she kidding? The thin black cloth did nothing to hide his muscular shoulders as he reached up to get something from the top shelf.
"So," he started, his back still turned towards her, having to have sensed her standing in the doorway. "Since the other Mrs. Lockwood isn't here to help or complain, I take it we can prepare something with carbs after all?" He turned around and gave her a cheeky grin.
"Not if you want to keep her happy," Elena replied with a warning look.
"Carbs it is," came his instant reply, in response to which, to her own horror, Elena couldn't help but smile. "So to introduce you to the exciting world of cooking, I was thinking Spaghetti al Pomodoro."
"Spaghetti with tomato sauce? That doesn't sound very exciting," Elena said with a slight pout, walking up next to him to take a look at the produce.
"I figured I'd start you off with something simple," he returned, a playful smile on his lips, to which Elena only huffed in feigned disappointment and threw a disdainful look at the tomatoes. "Don't you know that anything can be exciting if you make it exciting?" she heard his smooth voice right next to her ear, sending undecipherable shivers up her spine. She jumped slightly, leaning on her other foot to create some distance.
"So how are you going to make tomato sauce exciting?" she asked with a challenge in her voice that made him smile.
"Ah! And thus her interest was piqued," he grinned, tossing a tomato at her which she caught fumblingly. The shock in her eyes at the idea of the fruit possibly squashing and staining her made him chuckle.
Thankfully, she regained her composure quickly and nonchalantly inspected the red object in her hand before clearing her throat. "So, Mr. Chef," she began with a half playful, half daring smirk. "What do you need me to do?" she asked in a more lustrous tone than intended. She only realized it when she thought she saw his eyes darken only a fraction. The flirtatious smirk fell off her face instantly but before she could backpedal, the look she had believed to have seen flash across his face was gone and he turned quickly back to the tomatoes.
"Well, you can start with the tomatoes. They need to be washed and then diced," he instructed.
Elena, not daring to say another word, nodded quickly and went to grab the tomatoes and carry them over to the sink. What was she doing? She thought to herself. They were just cooking dinner. Had she been flirting with him? Why would she be flirting with him? Her cheeks started to burn lightly in embarrassment. She prayed that he hadn't actually caught on to her coquettish tone. Hoped imploringly that he didn't think she was coming on to him. How humiliating would that be? She was a married woman, married to his boss, and after not even two days without her husband, she was already throwing sultry looks at him. These thoughts didn't help the flush that was spreading across her face one bit. They only helped to darken it. Why was she thinking about his muscular shoulders when he was just standing there? Why, when his body had pressed menacingly against hers earlier that day had she stopped to notice how great he smelled? Why, when he had been sitting next to her on the beach, had she hoped he would look at her instead of the setting sun? Stop it, she yelled at herself in her head. Just cut the damned tomatoes!
"Whoah, what did that tomato ever do to you?" his voice broke through her inner monologue. She stopped, shocked, and looked down at a small heap of mashed tomato on her cutting board.
"I'm sorry. You know I never cooked before," she tried to excuse her furious assault on the red fruit, her mind still reeling from her previous thoughts.
He only chuckled. "Well, you don't squash tomatoes, you dice them, alright?" He took the knife out of her hand carefully and diced another tomato to show her how it was done correctly. She could have just died in shame right then and there. She didn't need to know how to cook in order to be able to dice a tomato. She had just been… preoccupied. No need to explain that to him, though. So she simply nodded and smiled and took the knife back.
"You're just lucky we're making a sauce and not bruschetta," he told her with a raised eyebrow and a smile, shoving her slightly with his hip which made her chuckle and roll her eyes at him. She felt able to breathe again. And she was thankful to him for relieving the tension and not turning this situation into the awkward moment it could have been. "So how's life on the run treating you so far?" he spoke again.
"Well, I'll tell you one thing," she said with a smirk. "That movie 'The Fugitive' got it all wrong. I don't know what Harrison Ford's problem is. Being on the run is a piece of cake."
"Well, he didn't have anyone to carry him through the sewers to save his stockings," he replied in a teasing tone.
"No one asked you to live out your knight in shining armor complex. I'm just a frail woman. If you decide you need to carry me across the beach, there's nothing I can do to stop you," she said with a mock pout.
"Oh is that how you want to play this?" he smirked. "No more favors for you, then."
"Oh no, have I insulted your chivalry? How will your ego ever recover from this blow?" she was now smiling widely, quite pleased with her riposte.
"You should do that more often," he said, his features suddenly softening.
"What? Offend your ego?" Elena retorted, still smiling playfully.
"Smile," came his simple reply.
Elena's joyful expression faltered slightly as confusion seeped into her eyes. "What? I smile all the time."
"Not like that," he elaborated, motioning towards her face with the spoon he was holding. "Happy."
Elena sobered completely in an instant and turned back to her tomatoes, swallowing thickly. He had been with them for what, a few weeks? What made him think he could distinguish different smiles on her? She had exactly one smile. It was picture perfect and it was always the same. She had years of practice. "Oh really?" she asked, trying to regain her playful tone of voice. "And how would you know that? Have you been watching me, Mr. Salvatore?"
"Well, it's my job to watch you. So I will go with yes and not even feel weird about it," he returned with a smile that unexplainably dissipated all of Elena's uneasiness. "And I know it's not my place but you pretty much never smile like this. And you should. All the time."
"Maybe I only smile when you're not around. Because you aggravate me so much," she fired back, hoping to steer away from this conversation as quickly as possible.
"Yeah, that must be it," he conceded with a knowing smirk.
"All this talk is just so you don't have to reveal your big tomato sauce secrets to me, isn't it?" she pushed a little further.
"You read me like a book, Mrs. Lockwood," he returned, turning back to the other ingredients standing on the counter top next to the stove. "But obviously you are too cunning and my ruse hasn't paid off. So why don't you come over here so I can indoctrinate you in the world of the Italian cuisine?"
She was glad he dropped it so easily and happily sauntered up next to him, a little bounce in her step. "You make it sound like I'm joining a cult," she quipped while leaning against the sink.
"Well, you will worship my cooking, so there is a little truth in that, I guess," he replied with a wink.
"Oh is that so?" she returned in playful astonishment. "Well, indoctrinate away, cocky."
He smiled a pleased smile and turned back to the cutting board that held minced onions and several herbs. "Well, the beginning is no big secret, really. You heat up some olive oil and then you add onions and garlic."
Elena hadn't noticed the tiny pieces of garlic lying next to the onions. Mason always made sure to order their food without garlic. He didn't want her to have bad breath. She blushed slightly. "Well, maybe we can leave out the garlic, right?" she suggested quietly.
"Why? Do you have a hot date lined up for tonight?" he winked at her again which made her only more uncomfortable. "Don't worry. We're all eating it. You won't notice it on us, but you'd miss it in the sauce." She still didn't look convinced which only made him chuckle. "There was garlic in last night's Cannelloni," he dealt the final blow.
Elena was going to protest but was interrupted by a little voice that came from the doorway. "Mommy?" she heard it say.
She spun around to look at her son's hopeful but at the same time insecure big eyes. "What is it sweety?" she asked, hoping nothing serious was the matter.
"Can I show you something?" he asked, the courage he had had to muster up evident in his voice.
"Uhm, can this wait till later? I'm busy," she replied, glancing quickly at her bodyguard for confirmation. Jeremy didn't say anything but was still looking at her with big eyes. His left leg started to shift a little, uncomfortably, as if part of him wanted to run away while another part of him was kept in place by an invisible force.
"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Lockwood. I'll just get started on the sauce by myself and you can squeeze all the actual cooking secrets out of me when you come back," Damon suggested, motioning with his head for her to go with her son.
She nodded her head quickly, not wanting to seem unwilling and then followed her son almost hesitantly; apprehensive of what he might want to show her. They passed the upstairs bathroom where she saw the nanny wash out the children's sandy bathing suits in the tub while humming to a tune in her head. Elena had to smile when she recognized the song from the radio and suddenly she realized that she knew nothing about this woman she spent every single day with, not even what kind of music she liked to listen to. But before the realization could turn into regret, they had reached the children's bedroom and Jeremy sprinted excitedly over to his desk, retrieved a sheet of paper and ran back to his mother to hand it at her, his eyes wide with suspense at what her reaction might be. Elena looked at the sheet filled with stick figures and for the life of her couldn't figure out what she was looking at. "That's pretty," she said with a quick smile and looked at her son. His expectant eyes told her that he had hoped for a more elaborate answer. She looked around the room awkwardly, briefly catching a glimpse of her daughter who was sitting on her bed with a sketching book in her lap and studied her curiously, undoubtedly judging her reaction. Unsure, she looked back at the drawing and finally sat down on the floor to be at eye level with her son. "What is it?" she asked, laying the paper down in front of her.
Jeremy sat down next to her eagerly. "That's you," he said and pointed to one of the figures that stood by itself in one corner of the rectangle that had brown sticks on the sides of its head and red lips. She smiled. The painted her was wearing a long blue dress and holding out her arms to both sides, one seemingly holding on to a long stick.
"And what's that in my hand?" she asked, wanting to figure out the rest of the drawing.
"That's a sword. So you can defend yourself," Jeremy said proudly. Elena looked at him in surprise but before she could say something, he spoke again. "But you don't have to. Because Damon and I will protect you." He pointed to the other side of the drawing where two stick figures, one big one and one small one, both holding swords as well, were warding off other stick figures with grim faces. Elena just stared at the illustration in front of her, speechless. "We're your supermen," he added with a proud grin, indicating the big red S-symbols that he drew on their blue shirts. "But you still get a sword. Just in case," he then concluded, looking up at his mother with a hopeful smile. As soon as his eyes landed on her face, however, his expression slipped. "What's wrong?" he asked and it was only then that Elena became aware of a tear that was slowly sneaking its way down her cheek.
"Nothing," she reassured him quickly, wiping the tear away and smiling at him brightly. "It's just so beautiful." The pride and elation returned to her son's face. "You really are my superman," she added and, not able to refrain, she pulled him in with one arm and kissed his soft hair. When she let go of him, he turned his face back up and beamed at her happily. "This will go on the fridge," she decided and picked the paper back up.
"My picture is going on the fridge!" Jeremy yelled and sprinted up to his sister's bed, jumping onto it, making her bounce involuntarily. Jenna, in return, didn't deign him with a reply but just stared down at her own drawing.
"What are you drawing?" Elena asked, encouraged by her son's enthusiasm, and got up slowly to walk over to the bed as well. Jenna let her eyes skip between her drawing and her approaching mother, without replying to her question. "May I see?" Elena continued, a little less sure of herself now. Jenna looked at her picture one more time before speaking.
"It's not really finished yet," she said in a quiet voice.
"I'm sure it's already great," Elena said, admittedly with little conviction in her voice, since she didn't want to push her daughter into anything she didn't want to do.
Jenna regarded the drawing again and then slowly lowered it onto her knees so that her mother could study it. Elena sat down on the bed next to her daughter, aware of the apprehensive look on her face. The drawing was of two people standing on a field of flowers. Jenna was still working on the man's pants. The rest of the picture looked pretty finished, however. It was of a man and a woman, holding hands and smiling, the sun, smiling as well, in the sky above them. The woman was wearing a pink dress and had wavy blonde hair that was adorned with a silver crown, while the man had dark hair that was topped by a golden crown, embellished with blue gemstones.
"What a beautiful couple," Elena commented and smiled at her daughter encouragingly. "Are they a prince and a princess?"
Jenna nodded and only spoke after quite a long while, probably needing to build up the courage. "That's me," she said, pointing towards the woman in the pink dress. "When I'm old enough to marry Damon." The girl stared at her drawing, not daring to look into her mother's face. It was only now that Elena noticed the man's eyes in the same intense blue that the crown jewels had. She smiled a little, remembering her daughter's adoring look towards their bodyguard when she was helping him in the kitchen.
"Well, you two look very happy," Elena said, carefully stroking her daughter's hair. "And that dress is absolutely gorgeous," she added with a smile. Jenna's face turned up towards her mother, a cautious smile on her lips but a jubilant sparkle in her eyes. "Should we hang it on the fridge as well?" Elena suggested and Jenna looked back down at her work, contemplating the proposal.
"I think I'll draw something else for the fridge," she finally decided.
"I'd like that," her mother answered and stroked her hair one last time.
When Caroline entered the room, she was startled to see her employer wit with her children.
"Mrs. Lockwood," she gasped. "Is everything alright? Did something happen? I only just left for a few minutes, I'm so sorry," she rambled on before being mercifully interrupted by Elena.
"Oh no, everything's perfect, Miss Forbes. Just perfect." She smiled at her daughter who had again started to work on her prince's trousers.
"Maybe we should start our stories," Caroline suggested, still unsure about what kind of a situation she had walked into.
Jeremy pouted and Jenna heaved a heavy sigh but Elena felt actually relieved to have an excuse to cut the moment they were sharing short. As much as she had loved the last minutes, they also scared and intimidated her and she needed time to collect her thoughts. As she left her children's room and walked back downstairs, her head was spinning. Her son's proud smile and hopeful eyes were making her feel elated and overwhelmed at the same time. Her daughter had somehow opened up to her, even if only a little bit. She didn't know how to deal with these new developments. She had never had an open or close relationship with her daughter. When she had started speaking but limited herself to telling her stories to her nanny, Elena had thought it was too late to strive for one. And as astounded as she was about the flicker of hope she had for her relationship with her children, she was more shocked by the reach of the connection her bodyguard had with them. They had known him for a few weeks and she was quite certain that he didn't spend much more time with them than she did, and still he had left an undeniable mark upon them. A fact that impressed her but also made her feel a small pang of jealousy. When she reached the kitchen door she studied his back for just a second. There he was, stirring the pot, having crept into her children's hearts so quickly without even trying. How did that happen? She shook off her thoughts and walked into the kitchen.
"And she's back," he stated, turning towards her with a friendly smile. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, perfect. You have my children all undecided," she added in a teasing tone.
"Really? How is that?" he asked with raised brows.
"Well they can't agree on whether you are a prince or superman," she answered, glancing into the pot.
"Who says I can't be both?" he replied with a suggestive wiggle of the eyebrow.
"My experience with men says that," she answered with a playfully arrogant smirk. "You'll most likely turn out to be neither."
"Ouch. Harsh judgment of the male species, coming from a happily married woman," he returned, turning his attention back to the simmering tomato sauce.
Well, there's married and then there's married, Elena remembered Vicki's words. For some reason she couldn't grasp, she felt like she now understood what her sister in law had meant. She decided to ask her about it later. "Not all men are like my husband," she stated, falling back into her routine of wanting to make him look good.
"No, they're not," was all Damon said in response. "Try the sauce," he then changed the subject, holding the spoon up to her lips. She looked at the red, steaming liquid and blew on it lightly, before nipping at the spoon and tasting the rich tomato flavor. She thought she could make out a hint of garlic but that was it, the rest was pure tomato. Admittedly, she was a bit disappointed. She had expected the 'exciting' sauce to be more exciting. When she raised her eyes and met his, that were studying her, she saw a look playing there for a second that she couldn't place, before his face shifted to a knowing smirk. "Not very exciting, huh?" he asked with a wink.
"I wasn't going to say anything, but…" she let the sentence trail off.
"Well, I waited for you to get the excitement started. This is just the plain tomato base. The secret to Italian cooking is in the seasoning."
"Alright, well hit me with your best seasoning secrets. This sauce needs it," she taunted him, to which he only smirked and turned towards a bunch of plants standing on the window sill.
"The problem is that most people always cook with dried herbs. Fresh herbs taste very differently. You'll see. Smell this." He came back with a small twig, adorned with tiny leafs. He ripped off a few of them and rubbed them gently between his thumb and forefinger. He closed his eyes briefly as he took in the scent before smiling and holding the crushed sprig up in front of her. She looked at him, hesitating for a second, before leaning slightly forward and drawing in a deep breath. The partly spicy, partly fresh scent hit her with a surprising force. It was followed by a brief memory of herself on a field in the countryside in the south of France, where she had been on her honeymoon with Mason, back when she thought she could be happy and the future had seemed to hold infinite possibilities for them. How far away that feeling seemed now. The memory was gone as quickly as it had popped into her head. The smell had reminded her of it, but she couldn't place it.
"Tea?" she asked, thinking it smelled like the infusion her mother had used to make for her when she was sick.
"Not bad," Damon answered with an acknowledging quirk of the lips. "It's thyme. It's often used in herbal teas. But it's also an essential ingredient in many Mediterranean dishes."
She remembered now, remembered wandering through the lavender fields in Provence and visiting an ancient monastery where she had walked through the small herb garden. She had smelled it there first and again in other places, but had never been able to place it. She was surprised that the pure smell of a plant she never knew she knew could evoke such strong recollections.
"Seasoning is simple, really," he stated. "You just need to know your basic Simon & Garfunkel."
"What?" Elena was snapped out of her reverie instantly and couldn't help but laugh lightly.
"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?" he only said in reply, enunciating it like he was reciting a poem. Elena only stared at him wide-eyed and laughed again. "You don't know Simon & Garfunkel?" he asked, almost reproachful.
"Not by heart," she returned, still laughing. "I'm surprised you do."
"What? It's a classic!" he protested. "They're not Radiohead! But then again, who is?"
"Now see, Radiohead I can picture. Goes better with the whole bad boy, leather jacket image you got going on."
"My bad boy image?" it was now his turn to look at her in astonishment. "I'm half prince, half superman, remember?"
"Goes to how what poor judges of character my children are," she replied.
"Children and drunks always speak the truth," he countered.
"Says who?"
"Says everybody! It's a proverb!" He couldn't believe she didn't know this. "First Simon & Garfunkel, now this. Where did you go to school?"
Elena swallowed back her next comeback and sobered up from the playful banter. "Well, enlighten me then. What's so special about Scarborough?"
"Well, there lives a girl there that once was his true love," Damon replied, his voice softer in reaction to her dampened attitude. "But the reason why I mention it is because of the next line. 'Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme'."
"Ah. Thyme!" Elena pointed to the plant sitting on the windowsill that he had taken the little twig from.
"And parsley, sage and rosemary," he added, walking up to three other plants and carrying a few leafs over to her. He broke one of the twigs in half and held it up to her again. She was met with a strong scent that smelled like the lamb in red wine sauce that François made sometimes but also had a piney note to it.
"What's that?" she asked, looking at the little needly sprig, hoping he wasn't planning on putting that in her food.
"Rosemary," he explained, before dropping the whole branch in the sauce. When Elena gasped he could only laugh. "Smell this," he said and handed her a somewhat velvety leaf. She held it up to her nose. It smelled aromatic as well, but not as intense as the thyme had. "Rub it," he advised and waited for her to slowly, cautiously roll it between her fingers. When she held up the squashed leaf this time, a heady scent hit her and he looked up at him in surprise. "That's sage," he explained.
"Like the stuff you burn?" she asked, looking at her sullied fingers in bewilderment.
"Yes. But it smells very different when it's fresh." He walked back over to the plants and got more leafs. He threw the rosemary into the sauce and put the other herbs down on his cutting board, mincing them expertly with his knife, before throwing them into the sauce as well. While letting the sauce simmer, he dropped the spaghetti into a pot with boiling water. "Close your eyes," he suddenly demanded, taking her by surprise.
"What?" she exclaimed. He rolled his eyes in amusement and turned so he stood directly in front of her.
"Close your eyes," he demanded again with emphasis in his soft voice. He was standing so close to her that she could again smell him like she had that morning, that strange mixture of aftershave and Damon Salvatore that somehow smelled different from any man she knew and at the same time gave her a sense of familiarity she couldn't explain to herself. She closed her eyes and tried to push down the heat that was rising in her cheeks at his proximity. She heard him rummage around for a short while and then smelled the tangy scent of the tomato sauce and then heard a noise that sounded like him blowing air through his lips. "Open your mouth," he said, his voice velvety and low. A small shiver ran up her spine and she parted her lips dutifully. The warm sauce hit her tongue and she could still smell the same strong taste of fresh tomatoes, but in addition she was now able to detect the rosemary and the sage, even the thyme. She wasn't sure about the parsley, but she did taste something different as well, something she couldn't place.
She opened her eyes slowly and was met by his blue ones, studying her attentively, taking every reaction on her face in. "You put something else in there," she stated, unable to disengage her eyes from his.
A smile that looked almost proud spread across his face. "I did. Can you guess what it is?" he challenged her. She thought for a second but came up empty. She shook her head. "Vanilla," he revealed, grinning when she gave him the desired reaction by looking utterly confused.
"Really?" she questioned, looking at the red sauce in the pot suspiciously.
"Exciting enough for you?" He winked and she rolled her eyes and slapped him softly across the chest. "Now the only things missing are parmesan cheese and, my grandma's all-purpose ingredient, basil. But we'll add those fresh. Why don't you get the kids and I'll set the table?"
Elena didn't answer but threw him a last smile before walking out the door and up the stairs to get the rest of their little runaway gang. The way he had said it, why don't you get the kids, had sounded almost like he was her husband and they were on vacation. This fleeting thought bothered her less than it probably should have. When she had rounded everyone up and the gang was heading back downstairs, Damon was just setting down the big bowl of spaghetti, closely followed by Bonnie who walked in from the kitchen with the sauce.
"Damon!" she heard Jeremy exclaim behind her and watched her son shoot past her, waving a sheet of paper in his hand and pushing it up to him as soon as he reached the man's legs. She saw her bodyguard smile at her son and take the paper from him to inspect it. As he turned it to have a better angle for the light, she realized that it was the picture her son had shown her earlier. "Mommy said we can put it up on the refrigerator!" Jeremy exclaimed excitedly, already pulling Damon towards the kitchen.
"Well, we certainly must," the latter exclaimed with a smile, following the little boy obediently, only turning around once to wink at Elena as if they were sharing a secret. "Those are some cool swords," she heard him say in the distance.
When everyone was seated and Jenna had successfully fought for the chair next to Damon's, the two men of the house came back and jovially joined everyone at the table. The pasta was being handed around and Damon was showing Jenna how to properly grate the parmesan over her spaghetti and how to distribute the freshly cut basil across her plate. Everyone was wearing smiles, even Vicki didn't complain about the carbs she had to yet again consume for dinner. How had this come about, Elena wondered, this weird bond they all shared in their forced but unfelt exile. Within a few days they seemed to have grown to be a family. And the most astounding and frightening thing was that the one family member who was missing was not leaving even the tiniest void.
Those were the memories and thoughts Elena was met with while she was lying in her bed, staring outside at the moon hanging low in the sky. Tomorrow they would call home. That word had never sounded more foreign to her than it did at that moment.
A/N: Next chapter: Damon's POV. What does he think about all this? ;) Please review 3 Thanks! xoxo