Today is double-update day so make sure you don't miss chapter 2.
Damon feels the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in his belly. Tension grows on his face and limbs, his mind replaying the last time... His breathing becomes more rapid and shallow. In these moments as his own personal hurricane is bearing down on him, he understands the addict... anything to stop the primal urge to flee.
He should have expected it.
No, he did expect this run-in would come sooner than later. The chances grew... was it just this morning? ... when Ric gave him this route. Still, as he's standing there, face to face with her, he realizes he isn't ready.
Surprise, surprise!
He'll probably never be ready.
He watches as the color drains from her face, and returns as shock turns to...anger?
"Elena...," he mumbles, his voice sounds actually calmer than he feels.
"How...?"
"I'm back. I know. Shocking."
This is coming out all wrong. He can see her temper flare, but she immediately swallows it back. She's always been better at controlling herself than himself.
"Do you... want to come inside?"
"No!" he almost shouts which startles her, she seems hurt, and he doesn't want that. "I'm... working."
They both know it's not the only reason.
Elena shakes her head, trying to decide how to continue and Damon takes advantage of the rare moment having her right in front of him to look at her closely, his eyes roaming her form. She looks... older, or it might be his memories that remind him of moments from their beginning when she was a sweet eighteen girl unaware of what or rather who she should run from?
Her eyes are deeper and it's uncomfortable to find a certain sadness under their usual warmth. Her hair, falling just under her shoulders in waves... is definitely shorter, it used to reach her waist. Even the clothes she's wearing, are they her new favorite colors? His breath hitches as a thought suddenly strikes him... for whom did she change all of this about herself?
"Well, we can... catch up... when you're off work?"
The expression, catch up, sounds wrong from her mouth, she realizes it too because she sighs in frustration and grimaces. Damon almost smiles, it's so familiar...
And then his heart nearly stops.
As her left-hand runs through the chestnut locks, undoubtedly to collect herself together, his eye catches a glimmer of sunlight reflecting off her hand.
A ring.
On that finger.
"I gotta go," he takes a step back, turns around, and runs back to his truck, trying to block out everything that just happened.
Damon has no idea how he finishes his route, he still feels like he had the wind knocked out of him. Pulling his vehicle into the USPS lot, he parks it and goes into the building to check out for the day.
Inside the mail processing plant, machines separate mail by shape and size. They also orient the packages so their addresses are right-side up and facing the same direction. Other processing machines read the bar codes and direct the letters into bins based on ZIP codes. The letters are taken to the individual post offices, and the carriers load the trays into their individual vehicles for final delivery.
His breath comes in small spurts as he rushes to the time clock, stopping in his tracks when he sees Ric standing there with his arms crossed, obviously waiting for him. As soon as Damon gets closer, he opens his mouth no doubt to ask about his day, but he can't get into it.
With a flash of annoyance, he waves Ric off, "Not now," and ignores his wtf reaction. His presence seems to buzz around Damon like a fly that he can't swat. Every word, movement, and breath infuriates him to no end.
He's angry.
This is actually Ric's fault, putting him on that route where he had to know what would happen. But since he's his oldest and right now likely his only friend, he doesn't want to say something that he'll regret later.
Without looking back, he flees the building, hops into his car, and careens out of the parking lot, slowing down only when he's a good distance away.
Damon can feel it, building like an unstoppable snowball in the pit of his stomach. He cannot concentrate on anything, his heart starts to beat harder and faster, adrenaline levels rise, his balls try and crawl up inside his body and his brain starts to fire out negative thoughts like a machine gun. As sweat starts to form, it feels like his skin has another hot layer clinging to him like cellophane.
The negative thoughts keep coming like waves on rocks. The arguments in his head get so fast and so disturbing that sweat completely covers his body and he feels like he's going to explode.
Knowing he needs some kind of outlet or he'll lose his mind, he drives, stopping only when he gets to the Carlton Gracie Center. As soon as he gets inside, he quickly changes into some gym shorts and sweatshirt.
"You look like you need to go a few rounds," Enzo laughs, his eyes falling on Damon, scanning him from head to toe.
"You don't know the half of it," Damon quickly empties a bottle of water.
"Alright then," he follows Damon to the mat and the two of them get into position. In a fraction of a second, Damon lines up his shoulder with his opponent. He can see the unprotected area on the chest where he can strike. His left foot forwards, he brings his back foot to the front and leaps, propelling himself high into the air. Enzo's guard goes up, leaving his chest wide open.
All Damon has to do is turn to his other side, face his opponent, wait for gravity to start pulling him down, and then shoot his right leg out in a straight line, sailing cleanly into his opponent's chest. Dead center. Damon offers his hand to help him up.
"Well, I'm impressed," Enzo laughs, taking his hand and getting to his feet. "You up for another?"
He nods and the two of them continue to grapple till they're drenched in sweat with chests heaving. Laying on their backs, Damon throws his forearm over his face till he can breathe normally.
"You want to tell me what this was about?" Enzo shifts onto his side, raising up on his elbow to look at the other man.
"I needed to burn off some anxiety and as stupid as it sounds, the blows remind me that I'm alive."
"I understand now," he eyes him knowingly as if recognizing something. "If you ever need to talk or just beat the shit out of each other, I'm usually always here."
"Thanks, Enzo, I appreciate it," Damon takes the hand offered to him and stands up. With a nod, he grabs a towel, throws it around his neck, and heads for the shower room to wash off the remains of the day.
Damon pulls a gallon jug of orange juice out of his fridge then plops down on the couch and grabs the remote. While flicking through the channels, he takes a long slog from the jug, screws the lid back on, and sets it down, curling up on the couch with one arm under his head and his legs bent at the knees.
He closes his eyes and draws in a lung full of air. With the sliding door open, he can hear kids squealing while playing at the swimming pool. Too lazy to get up and close it, he simply turns the volume up on the TV. Despite the quagmire in his mind, he soon drifts off to sleep.
Damon rushes into the bank needing to deposit his check. As he stands in line, he notices a young woman struggling to get a baby carriage up the flight of stairs. Without hesitating, he approaches her.
"You look like you could use a hand," Damon mentions, smiling at the curly-haired child.
"You would be right in that assumption," she adds and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear.
Damon picks up the stroller and carries it up the stairs with the woman following behind. When they reach the top, he sets it down.
"Thank you so much," she smiles, wraps her fingers around the handle, and pushes it into one of the offices.
Damon chuckles, trots back down the stairs, and gets back in line.
"That was a really nice thing you did," a voice comes from behind him.
When he turns around, he's completely captivated by the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.
"I'm Elena," she offers her hand.
"Damon," he introduces himself, bringing it to his lips.
He wakes up suddenly, every thought in high definition. His heart is pounding as if a hypodermic of adrenaline has been plunged into his carotid. A sliver of moonlight spills into the room, not enough to ignite the fiery hues of the rug, but enough to navigate his way to the bedroom.
Sitting upright, he drops his face into his hands as his breathing begins to steady. Once his eyes adjust to the darkness, he takes another long swallow of orange juice, puts it away, strips off his clothes, and crawls into bed. There's only one thought on his mind.
Elena.
The morning starts with a swipe of his time card. From there, he signs out the vehicle keys and scanner then leaves the office and gets in his truck. After arriving at the route he delivers what he can in the by car and then gets out to start putting the mail in the individual boxes. He can't help but wonder if he'll come face-to-face with Elena again. His stomach is churning as he gets closer to her house but if he wants to keep his job, it's not like he can pass hers by and continue to the next one.
He doesn't notice it till he hears a tiny mew. Turning around, there's a little black kitten following him. It's yowling like a baby calling for mother but she can't be close. The little thing can't be more than a few weeks old, too young to be alone like this. He opens the gate and walks up the sidewalk to stick the bundle of mail in the box, the kitten follows him in and back out.
He stoops down and it takes fright, trotting down a long concrete pipe. Then he hears it crying so he does the only thing that springs to mind. He attempts to meow hoping it'll work. The kitten replies to each one of his sounds and he can hear her moving getting closer to the pipe's entrance.
Eventually, a fluffy black face appears. After a little more of their "conversation," she is a foot from the pipe mouth, right next to his shoes. As fast as he can he reaches down and grabs the fur ball, holding it softly. It looks healthy enough, probably just hungry. Finishing that block, Damon carries it back to the vehicle with him, laying her down on the seat beside him. He'll have to ask Mrs. Flowers if she allows pets.
Only now does he realize that he finished the day without another encounter with Elena. He breathes a sigh of relief and glances over at the kitten who's now curled up and sleeping. Smiling, he shifts the vehicle into drive and heads back to the facility.
With the kitty dozing in his arms, Damon stops at the office when he returns. "Here goes nothing," he pushes the door open and walks up to the desk.
"What's that you have there?" Mrs. Flowers stands up to get a closer look.
"I found her in a pipe when I was delivering mail today. I couldn't just leave her."
"A girl?" the older woman strokes it with her finger.
"I think it's a she. I suppose the obvious question is can I keep her?" Damon drops his eyes when he feels her burrowing in further.
"You'll have to put down a pet deposit but yes, you can keep her."
A genuine smile forms on Damon's face, the first in a very long time. "Thank you, Mrs. Flowers. I'll take her to my place and then I'll bring you a check."
"You can just add to next month's rent if you want. It's $100. refundable if there's no damage to the apartment when and if you move out."
"That's perfect," he leaves the office and goes to his apartment. He carefully lays her on the couch, chuckling when she stretches and yawns before closing her little eyes again.
"Well Onyx, it's you and me now..."
Thanks for reading. And thank you, Eva. :D
PLEASE remember that this story is over four years old and I'd like to think I've improved somewhat over the last four years. I honestly don't know why I never got around to posting it years ago when it was fresh and new.
Chapter title: How You Gonna See Me Now by Alice Cooper.
"Hearts On Ice" will come next. I'll likely alternate updates for the two stories.
If you're looking for good fanfiction, check out CosmicAdventurer, her stories are outstanding.
Have a wonderful day and thank you again.