Elena kicks off her heels, exhausted. She slides a TV dinner into the microwave and turns on the TV.
"Breaking news: Police locate missing child. Suspect in custody."
Elena smiles. Her phone buzzes.
"Great work, Elena," Ric tells her. "Front-page material."
"Thanks, Ric. Talk to you tomorrow." Elena ends the call to shower and change into a camisole and pajama pants.
In the kitchen, she sips a glass of wine while waiting for her TV dinner to heat up.
When the timer dings, she carries her supper into the study and settles in her father's chair.
She has to find any shred of evidence that might link her father to the dead woman who resembles her, the woman whose name might be Katherine. Suspicion insinuates itself into her mind, a suspicion so incredible that she cannot bring herself to consider it yet. She only knows it's essential to go through all her father's papers.
Not surprisingly the desk drawers are neat. Grayson Gilbert's calendar is filled out for February and March. After that, only standing dates are entered. Her mother's birthday. Her birthday. An Alaskan cruise her parents had planned to take to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary in August.
The deep bottom drawer on the left is locked. Elena searches in vain for a key without success so she takes the file out of his top drawer and forces open the lock.
Elena picks through the stacks of envelopes hoping she'll find something...
For months it has been enough to see Elena only in passing when she comes to or leaves work.
Now, Aaron wants to be around her and take pictures. He loads them onto a flash drive so he can play them repeatedly.
He has to be careful not to be noticed.
"It's called 'obsession,' Aaron," the prison psychiatrist explained, saying that he needed help.
He doesn't need any help.
Aaron needs to be near Elena Gilbert.
Frustrated at finding nothing of any real significance and bone-tired, Elena goes straight to bed and sleeps until her alarm wakes her in the morning.
After calling the hospital to check on her Mom, she calls Damon. "I need to talk to you," Elena says.
"Is everything okay with Miranda?"
"Yeah, she's a strong woman."
"Like you," Damon counters.
Elena brushes off the compliment. "Could you stop by on your way to work?"
"Sure. There's something I want to ask you, too."
Elena is finishing up in the bathroom when the doorbell rings.
"Help yourself to a cup of coffee," Elena says as he enters the house. "I'll be right back." She runs up the stairs and returns a few minutes later, joining him in the kitchen.
"Damon, she begins, "you're a DNA specialist. The woman who was stabbed Thursday night, the one who resembles me so much?"
"I'm aware."
"What if our resemblance isn't coincidental? What if we were half-sisters?"
Damon studies the cup in his hand. "Elena, DNA testing is complicated, and I can show you how we do it."
"You could test my DNA against hers..."
Damon looks at her squarely. "I talked to Liz last evening. She told me the dead girl's blood was submitted to *CODIS which will tell us if her DNA is in the national database. We can submit a sample from you."
Elena blinks her eyes to blot out the vivid image of the dead woman's face. "When can we do this?"
"Do you want to meet me at the Sheriff's office after work?" Damon suggests.
Elena nods and walks Damon to his car and kisses him goodbye. She waves as he pulls out of the driveway and disappears in a cloud of dust.
Aaron's shoes sink into the soft earth, and the sun paints his skin with hues of amber as he studies the grounds.
Before him stands the Gilbert ranch house, its wooden frame sturdy and time-worn. A wraparound porch encircles the place.
His eyes trace the lines of the house—the way the eaves dip slightly on the western side as if bowing to the prevailing winds. A windmill creaks nearby, its blades spinning lazily.
Aaron's gaze shifts to the barn, its red paint faded. The doors hang slightly ajar, revealing stacks of hay bales and the shadowy forms of farm tools. A pair of swallows dart in and out.
Beyond the barn, the pasture stretches. Horses graze, their manes catching the sunlight like spun silk.
Well-satisfied, and not wanting to be seen, Aaron returns to his vehicle and speeds away.
The shock Elena feels once again seeing the dead woman has dulled by the time a vial of blood is drawn from her arm.
Damon agrees that a DNA comparison is necessary, given their uncanny resemblance.
They leave Liz's office in separate cars and drive to the Grill in downtown Mystic Falls for lunch.
"What if she was my sister?" Elena laments and takes a nibble from her cheeseburger. "I'll never know her now. And who's her mother? Why weren't Mom and I enough for him?"
Damon aches to put his arms around her, to hold her to him, to kiss the pain from her eyes and lips. "I wish I could give you answers, Elena."
"I wish you could, too. Liz has known my parents forever. And yet she, too, is questioning whether he is dead."
"Do you think he's alive, Elena?" Damon asks, holding her hand.
"No, I don't. But then again, I never believed my father may have had another child either."
"Elena, we don't know if she is your relative or just a doppelganger...But the Grayson Gilbert I knew would never pull this vanishing act. I don't believe he's alive either."
Elena sighs. "How long will it take to get the DNA results?"
"Ancestry DNA tests usually take six to eight weeks." Damon kisses Elena's hair. "I'll call you tonight," he says as he leaves the Grill.
Half an hour later, Elena is sitting in Ric's office. "That was a hell of a good interview with Mrs. Lockwood," he tells her.
"Thanks, Ric. I know this is probably a bad time but I'd like to take a little time off until this thing with my Dad is settled. Liz seems to think he disappeared to start another life. It's like she doesn't know him at all."
"Of course, Elena. Whatever you need."
Aaron knows he has to be near Elena, but he has to be careful. Fortunately for him, their ranch is in the country, not far from Mystic Falls but far enough.
He smiles as he inserts a flash drive of some recordings he made of Elena's horseback riding on her land.
She looks toward him from the butte, but he hides in the underbrush.
Watching Elena on his computer screen, Aaron's hands and forehead grow damp...
When Elena gets to the hospital, she finds her mother fully dressed and ready for discharge.
"What did Dr. Laughlin say?"
"I had to promise to check my blood pressure twice daily and keep a record. I have a couple of prescriptions here, too," Her voice falters, "Elena, I need to be doing something."
Elena hugs her fiercely. "Are you packed?"
"I am." Miranda points to her suitcase and hits the call button. Several minutes later a nurse shows up with a wheelchair and walks them out of the hospital to Elena's car.
"It's so good to be home," Miranda murmurs.
"Do you want to lie down?"
"No. I'm going to soak in a tub and then we're going to have dinner at the inn."
"Are you sure? I can order some carryout for us." Elena offers.
"I'm sure. Why don't you invite Damon to join us?" Miranda comments as she starts up the stairs.
"I'll do that," Elena calls aloud.
While her mother is dressing, Elena goes upstairs to freshen her makeup. After hesitating a moment, she calls Damon.
"Mom and I are going to the restaurant for supper. Do you want to join us?"
"Sure. How about I swing by and pick you two up? Dinner's on me."
"Damon, you don't have to do that."
"I want to. See you in a half hour. Love you," he adds and hangs up.
"Love you, too." Elena smiles as she ends the call.
The restaurant hums with subdued energy, its warm lights casting a golden glow on the polished wooden tables.
Elena sits across from Damon and her mother. The menu lies forgotten between them, its pages untouched.
Elena's fingers trace the rim of her wine glass, her gaze distant. She has always been close to her father, and his inexplicable disappearance weighs heavily on her heart. She wonders if he is still alive, somewhere.
Damon reaches across the table, his hand covering hers. His eyes hold a mix of concern and determination. "We'll find the answer, somehow," he says softly. "No matter what it takes."
Miranda, her face etched with worry lines, clears her throat. "Your father had secrets," she says, her voice tinged with bitterness. "But his disappearance is beyond anything I could have imagined."
The waiter appears, interrupting their conversation. He recites the specials—a delicate salmon with dill sauce, a hearty beef stew—and Elena forces a smile, ordering the salmon.
The food arrives, plated beautifully, but the taste is lost on her. She pushes the fork through the flaky fish, her mind elsewhere.
Damon leans in, his lips brushing her ear. "Eat, Elena," he murmurs.
She glances at him, grateful for his presence.
As they eat, the restaurant's chatter fades into the background. The clink of silverware and the soft music playing from hidden speakers seem inconsequential compared to the gaping hole her father's absence has left.
When the bill arrives, Elena hesitates. She had always been Daddy's little girl, and now she is left with questions and uncertainty.
Damon squeezes her hand. "We'll keep searching," he promises. "For closure, for answers."
Miranda nods and smiles fretfully at Damon.
They leave the restaurant, and the night air is cool against Elena's skin. The stars above seem distant, indifferent. She glances back at the restaurant's warm glow, remembering the meals she shared with her Dad.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Damon asks and opens the door for her.
Elena wraps her arms around his neck and pecks his lips. "I was thinking about how much I love you!"
The Museum's grand hall is bathed in warm light, its high ceilings adorned with chandeliers. The walls display sepia-toned photographs of soldiers in uniform, cannons, and tattered flags. The air hums with anticipation as guests, dressed in their Sunday best, gather to open the Battle of Willow Creek Civil War exhibit.
"I thought you were on leave," Kol comments as Elena steps out of her vehicle.
"I thought so, too," Elena smiles. "I was having a wonderful supper with my Mom and Damon at the restaurant when Ric called to see if I could cover this exhibit."
"He has a way of guilting us into compliance," Kol laughs and swings his camera on his shoulder as he follows Elena inside the museum.
"Kol, get shots of the artifacts—the muskets, letters, and battle-worn uniforms. We need to capture the essence of that era," Elena says softly.
"Got it, Elena. And don't worry—I'll make those relics look like they're still in the thick of it."
Elena approaches the curator who stands near a glass case containing a blood-stained Union jacket.
"Dr. Reynolds, Elena Gilbert from Channel 9 in Mystic Falls. Can you tell us about this jacket?"
Dr. Reynolds leans in. "Ah, yes. That belonged to Private Samuel Tappen. He fought at Willow Creek. The bullet hole here—right through the heart—tells a tragic tale."
Kol zooms in on the jacket, capturing its frayed edges and the faded blue fabric. He whispers to Elena, "This jacket has seen hell."
Elena nods. "It has, Kol. Imagine the courage it took to wear this into battle."
They move to a display of handwritten letters, yellowed with age.
"Dr. Reynolds," Elena asks. "These letters—are they from soldiers to their families?"
"Indeed. Love letters, farewells, and desperate pleas for survival. These words bridge time, connecting us to their hopes and fears," Dr. Reynolds confirms.
Elena scans the letters, her pen poised. She turns to the camera. "Viewers, imagine penning your last words, knowing you might never see your loved ones again."
Kol captures the delicate script, the ink blots, and the tear stains. "Elena," he whispers. "This exhibit is like stepping into history."
Elena nods. "It is. The echoes of battles, the sacrifices—they linger here."
"Dr. Reynolds, how did you recreate this scene?" Elena points to the life-sized diorama of a battlefield frozen in time.
"Painstaking research, eyewitness accounts, and a touch of imagination. We wanted visitors to feel the chaos, smell the gunpowder."
Kol adjusts the camera angle, capturing the smoke, fallen soldiers, and the distant sound of cannon fire. "I've got goosebumps," he says to Elena.
Elena looks at the camera. "Join us, viewers. Step into this exhibit. Let history wrap its arms around you."
As Elena and Kol continue their coverage, the museum comes alive—the past bleeding into the present.
Elena and Kol are standing at the rear gate of the van packing their things for the ride back to Mystic Falls.
"Katherine?"
Elena freezes for several seconds before she slowly turns to face a man who appears to be her father's age.
Through lips almost too numb to utter the words, she manages to say, "I'm not Katherine. My name is Elena Gilbert."
The man looks closely at her. "Are you Grayson's Gilbert's daughter?"
"Yes." Elena nods. "How do you know him?"
"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I'm Garret Thomas. Your Dad and I were roommates in med school."
"Why did you call me Katherine?" Elena asks.
He answers her with a question. "Do you have a sister, Elena?"
"No. I have a younger brother who's backpacking across Europe with his wife, Anna."
"And you don't remember meeting me with your parents six or seven years ago in New Mexico?"
"I've never been there."
"I'm confused," Garrett comments.
"Exactly when and where in New Mexico do you think we met?" Elena asks urgently.
"Let's see. It was in the fall, close to seven years ago. I was in Taos with my wife visiting her cousin. We were at the Kit Carson Home and Museum when I saw Grayson. He was having lunch with a woman and a teenage girl."
"This is very important. Please tell me everything you can remember about the people who were with my Dad," Elena prods him.
"It was the first time I'd seen Gray since we graduated. Even though thirty-two years had passed, I recognized him. I went over to say hi. He introduced me to his wife, Greta, and their daughter, Katherine. He gave off some strange vibes so I didn't stick around."
"He introduced the woman as his wife?"
"Yes."
"You're positive about their names?"
Garrett nods.
"How old was Katherine then?"
"Sixteen or seventeen, I suppose."
Elena shivers knowing Katherine's nearly the same age as she is and is now lying in the morgue in her place.
Suddenly her father has become a total stranger.
"I'm sorry this is upsetting to you." Garrett looks at Elena with pity.
"My father is missing and presumed dead, Mr. Thomas. He's always been a great father to me and a wonderful husband to my mother," Elena explains. She tries to blink back the tears that begin to well in her eyes. "He's always traveled a lot, sometimes every couple of months. He claimed they were medical conferences. It's quite a shock to learn he was a bigamist. How else do you explain Katherine and Greta? How do I begin to forgive him for such duplicity?"
It is a question Elena asks herself... Garrett answers it.
"I'm sorry about your father, Elena. I hope for everyone's sake that he turns up... I can't answer your questions but maybe your answers lie in Taos..."
It is five-thirty when Elena arrives home, relieved to find Damon waiting for her.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the living room. The air smells of Elena's favorite lavender-scented candles. Damon stands by the window, waiting for her.
The front door creaks open, and there she is—Elena, her shoulders slumped, eyes weary.
Damon's heart aches for her.
He crosses the room in two strides, gathering her into his arms. Elena melts against him, her face buried in his chest. His touch is solid, grounding—a safe harbor in the storm. Damon kisses her forehead, tasting the salt of her exhaustion.
"Hey," he whispers, his voice a gentle murmur. "You're home now."
Elena's fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, seeking solace. She doesn't need to say anything; he understands. The weight of her day lifts as he holds her.
Damon guides her toward the couch, lowering them onto its plush cushions. She nestles against him, her head resting on his shoulder. His hand traces soothing circles on her back, and he murmurs sweet nothings—words that stitch broken pieces back together.
Outside, rain taps against the windowpane, a gentle rhythm. Damon pulls the soft throw blanket over them, wrapping Elena in warmth. She sighs, her eyes fluttering shut. For a moment, they exist in this quiet sanctuary, wrapped in each other's presence.
"No more stress, no more worries. Just us." Damon whispers.
Elena's lips curve into a tired smile. "I love you," she says, her voice fragile but sincere.
He kisses her temple, savoring the taste of salt and vulnerability. "I love you too," he replied. "Always."
"I have so much to tell you, Damon, but it can wait a few minutes. I want to stay in your arms."
Damon holds Elena close. For now, all that matters is a love that heals even the deepest wounds.
An hour later, Miranda has supper ready. They sit at the kitchen table. Sipping a glass of wine, the stew looks so yummy but sits untouched until Elena tells them about meeting Garrett at the museum.
The air hangs heavy with tension...
"Mom," Elena begins, her voice barely audible. "I found out something today. Something about Dad."
Miranda sets her spoon down, her eyes narrowing. "What is it, sweetheart?"
Elena takes a deep breath, her fingers tracing the table's edge. Today has revealed a truth she hadn't been prepared for. A truth that shatters the image of her Dad as the devoted family man she always believed him to be.
"As Kol and I were getting ready to leave the museum, a man called me Katherine."
"What?" Damon asks, his eyes snapping to hers.
"Tell us, Elena," Miranda urges.
The man said he roomed with Dad in med school. He and his wife were in Taos, New Mexico a few years ago. He claims to have run into Dad."
"Are you sure he was talking about your Dad?"
"Yes, he said he recognized him immediately. Mr. Thomas claimed Dad introduced his wife and daughter."
Miranda's face pales. "He had another family?"
Elena nods, tears welling in her eyes. "They had a daughter, Mom. A half-sister I never knew existed. Her name was Katherine."
Miranda's eyes fill with tears. "How could he do this to us? To you?"
"I don't know," Elena whispers. "But I want to fly out to New Mexico to see if I can find this other woman. I want to understand."
"I'm going with you," Damon insists.
Elena smiles at him. "I hoped you would."
Miranda reaches across the coffee table, taking Elena's hand. "You must be careful..."
"I will. I promise."
Thank you all, so much.
Chapter title: "There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand." ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
*The Combined DNA Index System (CODIS) is the United States national DNA database created and maintained by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. CODIS consists of three levels of information; Local DNA Index Systems (LDIS) where DNA profiles originate, State DNA Index Systems (SDIS) which allows for laboratories within states to share information, and the National DNA Index System (NDIS) which allows states to compare DNA information with one another.
Please send wattskerrylou some love if you're reading "The Bourbon Diaries", she's had a rough few days.
Have a wonderful day. Let me know if you want me to publish "Blue Diamond."