When Elena arrives at Gilbert and Fell medical building at eleven o'clock Saturday morning, she goes to her father's private office.
Elena spent a sleepless night, her mind a battleground of questions, doubts, and denial. Tobias Fell appears, closes the door, and indicates one of the two chairs in front of the desk.
She knows Tobias will be honest with her. "Do you think it's remotely possible that my father is still alive and chose to disappear?" His momentary pause answers her question.
"You do think that?" Elena replies, shocked.
"Elena, I've lived long enough to know anything is possible. Like everyone else, I expected Grayson would show up, eventually...As the months passed, I had my doubts. Although, it would be completely out of character for him to vanish willingly, yes, it's possible."
Elena looks down. She's dressed in jeans and a matching jacket. It occurs to her that this is the kind of outfit the dead woman was wearing when she was brought into Mystic Falls Morgue. She pushes the thought away.
"There's no proof he isn't dead. No one's seen him in a year."
"I can't explain it, Elena. Nothing in Grayson's business or personal life suggests that he would choose to disappear."
Elena looks at the desk, the executive swivel chair behind it. She can picture her father sitting there, leaning back, his eyes twinkling. She remembers running into this office as a child.
Her father always had candy for her. Miranda tried to keep it away from her. "Grayson," she'd protest, "You'll ruin her teeth."
"Kids love candy."
Daddy's girl. Always. Her Mom made her do the dishes and clean her room.
Elena runs her hand along the cherrywood desktop. She glances at the table behind it with pictures of her, Jeremy, and their mother. The lion's-head bookends hold his leather-bound first-edition books.
For nearly a year she has been mourning him. Elena looks into Tobias Fell's eyes. "I believe my father is dead. I believe that something of his body will be found, a skull, a jawbone, something." She looks around. "I'll ask Damon if he'll help me pack his things."
"I can take care of that for you."
Elena shakes her head. "I prefer to do it, so Mom doesn't have to be burdened. She's questioning whether their marriage was as good as she always believed."
Tobias nods. "Understandable."
"That's why I can't tell her what happened the other night." She sees the deepening concern on his face as she tells him about the stabbing victim who resembles her and the note that appeared on her door.
"That's crazy, Elena," he says. "Are you in danger?"
Elena locks eyes with his. "I don't know..."
On her way home, Elena calls her mother. Her alarm at getting voice mail turns to relief when she dials the restaurant and is told Miranda is in the dining room. "Tell her I'm on my way," she instructs Hayley, the receptionist.
When the traffic slows, she picks up her car phone and taps Damon's icon.
"Hey!"
The sound of Damon's voice always makes Elena smile. As the car passes the blocked lane and picks up speed, she explains the visit to her Dad's office. "I could use some help cleaning out his office. Tobias might want to bring in another partner and needs the space."
"Of course. Hudson and I are just heading for the ranch. Want to join us for dinner?"
"I'd like that. See you." Elena ends the call.
It's nearly seven when she reaches the outskirts of town. Her headlights catch the trees, still heavy with leaves that are now restlessly moving, sending shadows over the road. They make her think of the dark, choppy waters below the Wickory Bridge.
The restaurant is humming with the soft clatter of cutlery and the low murmur of conversations. Elena steps inside, her heels clicking against the polished floor. The air smells of garlic and freshly baked bread, a comforting blend that wraps around her like a warm embrace.
Her eyes scan the room, seeking out the familiar face. And there he was, sitting by the window—a mop of dark hair, a hint of stubble framing his jaw. Damon. His gaze is fixed on the menu, brows furrowed in concentration.
Elena's heart flutters. She has missed him—the way he laughs and holds her hand. He makes her feel the world is less chaotic when they are together.
She approaches his table, her pulse quickening. Damon looks up, surprise lighting up his eyes. His lips curve into a smile, and suddenly, everything else fades away—the clinking glasses, the distant chatter—until it is just the two of them.
"Elena," he says, standing up. His voice is a warm melody, and she steps into his embrace, feeling the solid press of his chest against hers.
"Missed you," she whispers, her fingers tracing the edge of his collar.
He kisses her forehead, and for a moment, time stands still.
"Sit," Damon says, pulling out a chair for her.
"Hi, Hudson," She smiles at the young boy.
"Hey, Elena. You're just in time."
Elena settles into the seat, her heart still racing. She glances at the flickering candle on the table and the soft glow of the pendant lights. It is their place, where they've shared countless meals, laughter, and secrets.
As Damon sits beside Elena, their fingers brush, and she feels the familiar spark. He leans in, his lips grazing her ear. "Missed you too," he murmurs. "Always."
And in that cozy corner of the restaurant, surrounded by the comforting buzz of life, Elena is exactly where she belongs.
When they are ready to leave, Elena says, "I'm going to stay and talk with my Mom for a few minutes." She puts an arm around Hudson. "See you, buddy."
Hudson's smile beams. "Bye, Elena."
Damon tousles Hudson's hair, whispering something that makes the boy giggle. Then he turned to Elena, his eyes softening.
"I'll be back soon," he says, his voice low and intimate. "Don't miss me too much."
Elena smiles, her fingers brushing against the soft leather of Damon's jacket. "I'll try," she teases.
Damon leans in, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss is tender. She tastes the remnants of tiramisu in his mouth, his warmth seeping into her skin.
When they finally pull apart, Elena whispers, "Be safe."
He nods, his eyes lingering on her face. "Always."
And then he's gone, walking down the sidewalk, Hudson at his side. Elena watches until they turn the corner, disappearing from view. She presses her fingers to her lips, savoring the taste of their last kiss.
The restaurant's door swings shut behind her, and she goes to find her Mom.
Sitting in the basement watching the monitor from the communications center he has created in his basement apartment, Aaron stares at the screen, perspiration beading his brow as he watches footage he's recorded of Elena.
He feels edgy and needs some relief.
Aaron begins making random hang-ups and x-rated calls while trying to imagine their looks.
Tonight they all have the same face.
They all look like Elena Gilbert.
When Elena goes downstairs Monday morning, coffee fills the room.
"You didn't have to do this..." Elena's protest dies on her lips when she notices the dark shadows around Miranda's eyes.
"Mom, I've been thinking..." Elena carefully chooses her words. "I can't come up with a single reason why Dad would willingly disappear. If he had another woman, you would have known."
"Elena!" Miranda raises her hand, hoping she'll drop it.
"Mom, the insurance company is withholding payment because his body hasn't been recovered. Certainly, his is not the first case like this."
"I suppose that's true," Miranda says quietly.
"We should make an appointment with Slater to discuss our options. We can't just take this lying down."
Elena drives directly to the KDWO Television building in Mystic Falls.
Aaron appears at the exact moment she turns off her engine. "Hi, Miss Gilbert." His beaming smile and warm voice bring a responsive smile to her lips.
"See you." Elena waves as she heads for the stairwell.
Aaron watches her go, then gets in her car. He feels happy sitting in it. It has a hint of the perfume she always wears.
Elena barely sits down when her phone rings.
"Can you come to my office?" Alaric asks.
"Sheriff Forbes? Do you have any new information?" Elena's eyes dart between the blonde woman and Ric.
Liz shakes her head. "That girl is a dead-ringer for you, Elena."
"We already established that. Has she been identified?" Elena asks.
"Not yet... I came to see if you thought of anything since we talked the other night."
Elena runs her hand through her hair in frustration. "No, Liz. I told you I never saw that woman before in my life!"
"When was the last time you saw your father?" Liz asks.
"He left that morning to drive to the Richmond Airport. He had a flight booked to Las Vegas for a medical conference. I never spoke to him or saw him again after that day. He was due home on February 16th. We haven't heard from him since."
"He called my Mother as he was approaching the Wickery Bridge, that's the last time she heard from him. The police did not find his car in the airport parking lot. He never arrived in Las Vegas, so something happened to him after he left the ranch. His insurance carrier is refusing to pay because his body hasn't been recovered," Elena explains.
"Elena, the young woman who was murdered bears a striking resemblance to you and was carrying a slip of paper with your name and phone number written on it in your father's handwriting. Have you any explanation?"
Elena stiffens her back. "We already went over this last night. I have no explanation for any of it. People have been known to resemble each other, Liz, I believe the word is doppelganger!"
She turns to Ric. "I'm assigned to cover Carol Lockwood's Garden Festival. I'd better get moving."
"You okay?" Ric asks.
"Yes," Elena says quietly without looking at Liz.
"Elena, I've been in touch with the FBI. If there's been any report of a missing woman who fits the description, I'll know soon."
The room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls. Elena is tossing and turning, whispering, "Dad," having fallen asleep on the couch.
The bridge stands tall, its wooden beams weathered by time. Grayson leans against the railing, staring into the churning river below.
Elena reaches for her Dad's hand, their fingers intertwining.
"I miss you, Dad."
The bridge trembles and Elena clings to him.
"Don't leave me!"
The railing gives way. Grayson slips through her fingers, disappearing into the raging water.
"No!" Elena wakes up, gasping, tears streaming down her face. She clutches her chest, feeling the emptiness. As she's getting her bearings, the phone rings and she picks up the receiver.
A hoarse voice whispers, "Elena."
"Who is this?" Elena demands and hears a click. She knows her mother is picking up the extension.
"It's Dad."
A strangled moan makes Elena fling down the receiver and rush into her mother's room. Miranda is slumped on the pillow, her face ashen, her eyes closed.
Elena grasps her arms. "That wasn't Dad. It was some sick son of a bitch taunting us," she says urgently.
"Mom!"
Miranda is unconscious.
At eight o'clock Monday morning, Damon stands there, hands in his pockets, watching as Hudson climbs into the passenger seat of his dad's car. The weekend was filled with laughter, adventure, and late-night talks—the kind that only happens when you are away from home.
Stefan buckles up, adjusting the rearview mirror. He glances over at his brother, a knowing smile on his face. "Thanks for having him. He had a blast."
"Anytime, brother. You know that." He wants to say more—to tell Hudson how much he loves him, how proud he is—but the words catch in his chest.
Hudson waves from the window, his sandy hair tousled by the wind. "Bye, Uncle Damon!" he calls out, his voice filled with excitement and sadness.
"Take care, buddy!" Damon watches as the car pulls away, tires crunching on the gravel.
As the car disappears around the corner, Damon turns and sprints toward the house. The door swings open, and he dashes inside, the familiar scent of home enveloping him. His boots skid on the hardwood floor as he snatches the laptop, glancing at the clock. He is already running late.
Keys in hand, Damon locks the front door behind him and jogs to his car. The engine roars to life, and he merges onto the same road where Stefan and Hudson vanished moments ago.
As he drives around the bend in the road, Damon is astonished to see Elena's Jeep about to turn into her driveway. He taps the horn and she brakes.
Damon pulls up beside her. In unison, they lower their windows. His cheerful, "Good morning" dies on his lips when he gets a good look at Elena. Her face is strained and pale, her hair disheveled, and a striped pajama top visible between the lapels of her raincoat.
"Elena, what's wrong?" he demands.
"Mom's in the hospital."
A car is coming up behind her. "Go ahead," Damon says, "I'll follow you."
In the driveway, he hurries to open the car door for her. Elena seems dazed.
Once they're inside, Damon puts his hands on her shoulders. "What happened? Tell me."
"At first they thought she had a heart attack. Fortunately, that wasn't the case. She was in a hypertensive crisis. She'll be in the hospital for at least a week. Dr. Laughlin asked—get this—has she been stressed?"
An uncertain laugh becomes a stifled sob. Elena swallows. "I'm okay, Damon. Mom's exhausted, heartsick, worried. Rest is what she needs."
"I agree. It wouldn't hurt you either. Come on. You could use a cup of coffee."
Elena follows him into the kitchen.
When the coffee is ready, Damon pours them each a cup and sits opposite her at the table.
After a few minutes, Elena looks up at him. "Early this morning the phone rang and . . ." She tells him about the call and her mother's collapse.
Damon hopes the shock he's feeling isn't evident on his face. From the time Elena was fourteen and he was in college working summers at the ranch, he's been the willing confidante of her secrets.
"Elena, is it possible that your father called this morning?"
"No. No!" Elena shakes her head. "I'd recognize his voice. So would my Mom. The one we heard was surreal.
"He identified himself as Dad?"
"Yes," Elena admits.
Damon lays his hand on hers. "And the note in the stabbing victim's pocket was in his handwriting?"
Elena nods.
"Did your father ever mention a Katherine?"
Elena stares at Damon. "Not that I remember. I don't know what to make of this."
"Does Liz think you're in danger?" Damon stares into her eyes.
"It's entirely possible..."
As the first light of dawn creeps over the rugged peaks of Taos, New Mexico, Greta Sienna stirs from her slumber. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and sagebrush. The mountains, their jagged silhouettes etched against the sky, seem to hold their breath in anticipation.
With a yawn, she drags herself out of bed and walks over to the window to raise the blinds.
At the heart of this majestic landscape stands Wheeler Peak, its snow-capped summit catching the earliest rays of sunlight. The valley below lies shrouded in a cool, bluish hue, as if reluctant to relinquish the night. But the sun is relentless, inching higher with each passing moment.
Golden fingers stretch across the horizon, painting the clouds in hues of pink and orange. The Sangre de Cristo Mountains, their name meaning "Blood of Christ," blush as if touched by a divine hand. Shadows retreat, revealing the contours of ancient cliffs and valleys.
Birdsong erupts- a symphony of robins, jays, and sparrows celebrating the new day.
And then, with a burst of warmth, the sun breaches the mountaintops. Despite the worry in her heart, Greta smiles at the beauty. This is her favorite time of the day.
Every day for the last week, Greta has tried to reach her daughter...unsuccessfully.
She takes some solace in knowing that it isn't unlike Katherine to take off on a whim...
Elena's room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep the morning sun at bay. Damon stands by the bed, watching her lie there, exhaustion etched into every line of her face.
"You need to rest," Damon says softly.
Elena shifts, making room for him on the bed. He sits down beside her, his hand finding hers. "I can't," she murmurs. "I have to go to work."
Damon frowns. "You're exhausted. You can't go in like this."
"I have to," she insists. "I have assignments."
He leans down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll call Ric," he says. "Explain the situation. He'll agree with me."
Elena looks up at him, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers.
Damon helps her lie back down, pulling the covers up to her chin. "Sleep," he says. "I'll be back later."
She closes her eyes, already drifting off. "Love you," Elena mumbles.
He smiles, brushing his fingers over her cheek. "Love you too," Damon whispers, before slipping out of the room, leaving her to rest. As he heads to work, he can't help but worry about both Elena and her mother, hoping that things will improve soon.
After Damon leaves Elena, he drives to the lab and gets to work. As the day progresses, however, he's having trouble concentrating. A dull sense of apprehension permeates his entire body. Even his fingers feel heavy and clumsy. He has lunch at his desk and, as he eats, tries to analyze the tangible fear that is overwhelming him.
Who was this Katherine and who is threatening Elena?
By the time he tosses out his uneaten lunch and downs the last of his now-cold coffee, Damon won't know the rest until he chats with Liz Forbes and views the body for himself.
On his way home, Damon stops to check on Miranda.
"This is crazy, Damon. I need to be at the ranch."
He pulls up a chair. "You're where you need to be. Elena can't lose you, too."
Her sigh is acknowledgment. "I guess I've been traveling on nerves for a while...I suppose Elena filled you in on everything."
"Yes." Damon nods.
"Elena just left." Miranda shakes her head. "I don't know what to do about everything. We're okay financially, but Grayson's life insurance would give us a cushion."
"Don't worry about that. Everything will work out."
Miranda sighs. "Elena said some people get their rocks off making sick calls, but it's so upsetting... She's shrugging it off, but you can understand why I'm worried."
"Elena takes after her mother. She's a strong woman."
A few minutes later Damon stands to leave. He kisses Miranda's forehead, whispers goodnight, and leaves her room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Damon pushes open the creaky door of the sheriff's office. The air inside smells of old wood and coffee grounds.
Sheriff Forbes glances up from her paperwork, her eyes narrowing as she takes in Damon.
"Damon! Everything alright?" she asks.
"Hi, Liz. I'm looking for information about your Jane Doe," he says, his gaze flickering to the closed door at the back of the room. "The one that could be Elena's twin."
Liz leans back in her chair, studying him. "What do you want to know?"
"I'm worried that Elena could be in danger. I guess I just wanted to see for myself."
The sheriff raises an eyebrow. "People have lookalikes," she says. "But I'll show you the body. Follow me."
They walk down a dimly lit hallway, the floorboards groaning under their weight. The morgue door swings open, revealing a stainless-steel table.
"Joshua, can you pull out Jane Doe's body?" Liz asks, nodding her head toward Damon.
"Sure," Joshua agrees. He opens the refrigerated compartment and pulls out the slab.
Damon feels a lurch in his stomach. He feels nauseous and light-headed. She has the same curve of her jaw, the way her hair falls across her forehead. But this woman is lifeless, her eyes closed forever. This was meant to happen to Elena.
Liz watches him closely. "You okay?"
Damon swallows thickly, unable to tear his eyes away. "If the note Elena told me about was correct, her name is Katherine. That's a place to start isn't it?"
Liz sighs. "So far we've got nothing to go on. No fingerprint matches, no missing persons report. Just a face that looks like Elena."
Damon shakes his head. "I believe Elena is in danger. If the note was correct, Katherine was a mistake. Do you have anyone assigned to watch her?"
Liz's gaze softens. "Damon, this is a small police department. You know that."
"But what if this woman's killer is watching Elena?"
"Elena knows how to use a gun," Liz points out.
"So do I but I don't want her to have to. Maybe I need to stay at the ranch until this is settled?"
"You'll have to convince Elena but that is an option."
As they leave the morgue, Damon glances back one last time. The resemblance is eerie, and haunting. He vows to keep Elena safe, even if it leads him to a dark place.
Thank you, everyone. You're amazing!
Chapter title: "My mind began to grow, watchful with anxious thoughts." ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Have a fabulous weekend!