Elena pulls into the gravel lot near the lifeguard station in her old Jeep and cuts the engine. Sleep didn't come easy last night. Mason's dead stare kept her tossing and turning. Her mind is still spinning with questions she can't answer. She sighs and grabs her gear bag from the passenger seat.
Today's a new shift, a fresh start. At least, that's what she tells herself.
The beach is quiet at this hour. A few joggers dot the shoreline as Elena heads for Tower 3. She's already wearing her red lifeguard suit beneath a loose tank top.
She spots Damon before he sees her. He's standing on the tower, leaning against the railing with a coffee mug. His dark hair's tousled and his sunglasses are perched on his head. He looks like he hasn't slept either. She wonders if Mason's ghost kept him up, too.
"Morning," Elena greets as she climbs the stairs. There's no point in poking the bear right out of the gate.
"You're early," he remarks, sipping his coffee. It's not quite approval, but it's not a jab either.
"Learned my lesson," she replies, dropping her bag by the bench. She pulls out her whistle and loops it around her neck. "Anything I need to know before we start?"
Damon sets his mug down and crosses his arms. "Tides are high today. Currents might be tricky. Keep your eyes open." He pauses, then adds, "And stay out of Lockwood's way if he shows up again."
"Noted." She steps to the railing and searches the water. It's glassy now, but she knows how fast that can change. "You think he'll come back?"
"Tyler? Yep," he pops the p. "He's got a nose for trouble." Damon moves to stand beside her. "Let's just get through the day without another body, huh?"
Elena nods as she bites back the questions that linger in her mind.
By noon, the beach is crowded. Kids splash in the shallows, surfers ride the waves, and the air smells of coconut oil and hot sand. Elena's down by the waterline, adjusting a buoy that's drifted too close to shore. The work keeps her hands busy and her mind focused. She can feel Damon's eyes on her from the tower, tracking her like he's waiting for her to slip up. It grates on her, but she doesn't give him the satisfaction of looking back.
A shout grabs her attention. A teenage girl is waving from the surf and pointing at a kid struggling against a wave. Elena's instantly on the run and blowing her whistle. She grabs her rescue tube and sprints into the water. The kid's not far out, but he's caught in the current and tugging him sideways. She swims hard, reaching him in seconds, and hooks the tube under his arms.
"Got you," she says calmly over his panicked gasps. "Just hold on." She kicks back to shore and hauls the kid onto the sand. His sister rushes over, babbling her thanks, and Elena waves it off. Another save. It feels good.
She's brushing sand off her hands when Damon appears beside her. "Nice work," he acknowledges, and there's no sarcasm in it this time. "You're quick."
"Had to be," she replies. "I didn't want you stealing my thunder again."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Gilbert." For a moment, they're almost civil. Then his eyes shift past her and the moment shatters.
She turns to see Tyler Lockwood striding across the sand with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He's shirtless and he's heading straight for them. Elena's stomach tightens. Trouble's coming, just like Damon predicted.
"Salvatore," Tyler calls. "Heard you're still playing hero. How's that working out?"
"Better than you playing vulture, Lockwood. What do you want?"
Tyler stops a few feet away, dropping his bag with a thud. "Answers. Mason didn't just drown. He wasn't that stupid. Someone's covering something up, and I'm betting it's you."
Elena feels the air shift as the accusation hangs heavily.
"You're barking up the wrong tree," Damon hisses. "Mason was a mess. You know that better than anyone."
"He was family. And you hated him. Funny how he turns up dead on your watch."
"Back off, Tyler," Elena cautions. We did our job yesterday, CPR and the works. If you want to point fingers, take it up with the ER."
Tyler's gaze snaps to her and sizes her up again. "Sticking up for him already, huh? You're in deep, Gilbert." He smirks. "Watch yourself. Damon's got a way of sinking everyone around him."
Damon lunges, but Elena grabs his arm. "Don't," she hisses, her eyes locked on his. He freezes, and for a second, she thinks he might shake her off. But he doesn't. He steps back, breathing hard and his eyes still burning into Tyler.
"Get off my beach," Damon demands. "Now!"
Tyler laughs, then grabs his bag and walks away. Elena lets go of Damon's arm and turns to him, half expecting a fight, but he's already walking back to the tower.
She follows, climbing the stairs after him. "You going to tell me what that was about, or do I have to guess?"
He doesn't look at her. Instead, he stares out at the water. "Tyler's grasping at straws. Mason drowned. End of story."
"Bullshit," she says. "He thinks you're hiding something. Are you?"
Damon's head snaps toward her. "You want to play detective, go ahead. But don't expect me to hold your hand through it." He grabs his coffee mug and heads down the stairs, leaving her alone on the tower.
Elena watches him go as she grips the railing. She's not backing off. Whatever Damon's hiding, she'll find it.
Elena stands at the base of Tower 3 as she watches the water for trouble. It's a normal day, or it should be, but Tyler's words cling to her like damp sand. "Someone's covering something up, and I'm betting it's you." She glances up at the tower where Damon is standing and wonders how much truth there is in his accusation.
She shakes it off, forcing her focus back to the job. Elena spots a group of kids drifting too far out with their inflatable raft caught in a sideways pull. "Hey!" she shouts, jogging toward the shore and blowing her whistle. They don't hear her or don't care, so she wades in and signals them back. They paddle clumsily, and she guides them to safer shallows. "Stay close to shore, okay? It's rough out there today."
The oldest kid, maybe twelve, nods sheepishly, and she sends them off with a warning look. She turns back toward the tower, catching his gaze for a split second before he looks away, pretending he wasn't tracking her. It's infuriating how he hovers without saying a word like he's waiting for her to prove herself or fail.
A shadow falls over her, and she tenses, half-expecting Tyler again. She sighs when she sees it's Stefan.
"You're doing good out here," he says, offering her a smile.
"Barely," she admits, brushing wet sand from her hands. "Feels like the ocean's testing me today."
"It does that," he agrees, glancing at the waves. "You and Damon okay after this morning?"
She hesitates, weighing how much to say. "He's… prickly. Tyler showing up didn't help."
"Yeah, that's a mess waiting to happen. Tyler's got a chip on his shoulder about Damon. Always has. Just don't get caught in the crossfire."
"Too late for that. What's their deal, Stefan? Why does Tyler act like Damon's got blood on his hands."
Stefan sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's old history. Mason and Damon go way back. Bad blood over a girl. She drowned years ago, and Mason never let it go. Blamed Damon for it."
"Damon's never mentioned it."
"First of all, you're new. Secondly, he keeps things close to the vest," Stefan explains. "It's a wound that doesn't heal. Tyler's just stirring the pot, looking for someone to pin Mason's death on. But there's no evidence it was anything but an accident...yet."
"Yet?" she echoes. "You think there's more to it?"
Stefan shrugs. "I think this beach has a way of digging up the past. Be careful, Elena. Damon's not the only one with ghosts."
Before she can press him, a panicked shout cuts interrupts. They both turn, spotting a woman waving frantically near the rocks. "Help! There's something in the water!"
Elena's already moving with her rescue tube in hand. Stefan is behind as she sprints across the sand to the woman. "What is it?" she asks, breathless.
The woman points, her hand shaking. "Out there by the rocks. It looked like… a bag, or something. But it's caught, and I saw it move."
Elena squints against the glare, spotting a dark shape tangled in the seaweed near the jagged outcrop. It's not a person, but it's big. She glances at Stefan. "I'll check it out."
"I'm with you," he says, grabbing his tube from a nearby rack. They wade in and the current is strong as it swirls around the rocks. Elena swims hard and reaches the shape first. It's a duffel bag snagged on a rock. She tugs it free and hauls it toward shore with Stefan's help.
They drag it onto the sand. Elena kneels and unzips it. The bag contains ropes, a rusted anchor, and a tangle of fishing line. Tools that don't belong in a casual beach bag. "This is weird," she remarks, looking up at Stefan.
"Agreed." Stefan pulls out a piece of rope, frayed but knotted in a way that looks deliberate. "Could be nothing. Could be something."
Elena's gaze drifts to the tower, where Damon's watching...
Elena stares at the contents. The anchor is rusted and the fishing line is knotted in tight, purposeful loops. She glances at Stefan still holding the rope. His brow is furrowed like he's piecing something together.
"This doesn't feel random," she remarks. "You think it's tied to Mason?"
Stefan's eyes flick to hers. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just junk that washed up. We need more than a hunch to go on." He nods toward the station. "Let's get it inside, and figure out what to do with it."
Elena zips the bag shut and helps him lift it. It's heavier than it looks and they must shift the weight as they lumber along the dune path. She can feel Damon's stare from the tower, but she doesn't look up.
The station door creaks as Stefan pushes it open, and they set the bag on a table in the main room.
"I'll call it in," Stefan remarks and pulls out his phone. "The Sheriff's office should take a look. It could be lost property or evidence."
Elena steps closer to the bag and stares at the anchor. It's old, pitted with rust, but there's a faint marking scratched into the metal. Initials, maybe, worn down by time and water. "M.L." She traces it with her fingertip. Mason Lockwood?
"You see something?" Stefan asks, pausing.
She points to the marking. "Could be initials. M.L. Mean anything to you?"
"Could be Mason's. He used to mark his gear like that. An old habit from his fishing days. But it's not proof. Lots of people could have those initials."
"Yeah," she mumbles, unconvinced. "Lots of people don't end up dead in the surf."
He doesn't argue and steps away to talk to the sheriff's office. Elena stays by the bag with her thoughts spinning. Tyler's words echo again. "Someone's covering something up" and now this, a bag that might belong to Mason found in the rocks like a message from the deep. She doesn't believe in coincidences, not here.
The door bangs open, and Damon strides in loaded for bear. "What the hell's that?" he demands, nodding at the bag.
"Found it by the rocks," Elena shrugs. "Could be nothing. Could be something."
Damon steps closer to look at the unzipped contents. His jaw ticks when he sees the anchor, and the ropes, but he doesn't touch anything. "You think it's Mason's," he remarks.
"Maybe," she admits. "There's an 'M.L.' scratched on the anchor. Stefan's calling it in."
Damon's eyes narrow. He glances at Stefan, then back to her. "You're stirring up a hornet's nest, Gilbert. You know that, right?"
She crosses her arms, refusing to back down. "If it's connected to Mason, we need to know. You said he drowned. This doesn't look like a drowning kit."
He laughs and it's a short, bitter sound. "You're a regular Sherlock, huh? Mason was a drunk who got sloppy. That's all this is. His crap washing up to haunt me from the depths."
"Haunt you?" she presses. "What's that mean, Damon? Tyler thinks you're hiding something. Now this shows up. You going to keep pretending it's nothing?"
"Tyler's a punk with a grudge. And you're a rookie who doesn't know when to quit." He turns away, but she grabs his arm.
"Stop running," Elena insists. "If this is tied to you, to the girl, to whatever happened back then, I'm in it now. Tell me the truth."
Damon yanks his arm free and his eyes are fire. "The truth? Mason hated me because I couldn't save her. She drowned on my watch, and he never forgave me. Neither did I." His voice cracks for a second before he buries it. "That bag? It's probably from his last drunken fishing trip. Doesn't mean I killed him."
Elena stares at him and her heart is pounding. It's the most he's ever given her, a raw slice of his past. "You didn't kill him," she notes. "But you think someone did."
Damon doesn't answer. He blankly stares at her, looking away only when Stefan returns. "Sheriff's sending someone out. They'll take it from here." He glances between them, sensing the tension. "Everything okay?"
"Peachy," Damon mutters, brushing past him toward the door. "I'm out. You two play cops and robbers."
"Damon!" Elena starts, but he's gone, the door slamming shut behind him. She exhales in frustration.
Stefan watches her. "You're getting under his skin," he cautions. "Be careful with that. He doesn't open up easy, and when he does, it's usually a storm."
Her chin lifts slightly and there's a spark in her eyes. "I can handle storms."
The sheriff's deputy came and went, a gruff woman with a notepad who bagged the find as "potential evidence" and left with little more than a nod.
Stefan's inside, finishing paperwork, but Elena needs fresh air to clear her head. Damon's words keep looping in her mind. "She drowned on my watch and he never forgave me. Neither did I." They tug at something deep inside.
Hearing footsteps, she turns, half-expecting Damon. It's Tyler. He stops a few feet away. "Heard you found Mason's bag?"
Elena's guard goes up. "Maybe? Sheriff's got it now. Why?"
Tyler steps almost menacingly close. "Because if it's his, it proves I'm right. He didn't just drown. Someone killed him. And I'd bet my life it's Salvatore."
She notices his hands flexing like he's itching to hit something. "You've got no proof, just a hunch and a grudge."
"Grudge?" He laughs bitterly. "Damon ruined my family. Katherine was my cousin, you know that? Mason's little sister. She was everything to us, and he let her die. Now Mason's gone too. You think that's a coincidence?"
Elena's breath catches. Katherine isn't just Damon's ghost; she was a Lockwood. "I didn't know," she admits. "But jumping to murder's a stretch, Tyler. The bag had ropes and an anchor. It could've been an accident."
"An accident," he scoffs, stepping into her space. "You're new here, Gilbert, so let me clue you in. Mystic Beach doesn't do accidents. It's a graveyard for secrets, and Damon's got a shovel. You're smart. Don't let him pull you under too."
She holds his stare defiantly. "I'm not anyone's pawn. If there's truth to this, I'll find it."
"Good luck with that. Just don't say I didn't warn you." He turns to go but pauses and glances back. "Check the pier logs, if you're serious. Mason was out there the night before last. Might tell you something."
He walks off leaving Elena with a new thread to pull. Knowing that the pier logs record who comes and goes and what boats dock, she has a place to start.
As she enters the station, Stefan looks up from his desk. "You okay?" he asks, setting his pen down. "I saw Tyler out there."
"Yeah," she says, brushing it off. "We were just talking. He's…intense."
"That's one word for it," Stefan mutters, leaning back in his chair. "Tyler's been on edge since Katherine. Losing Mason's only made it worse."
Elena nods, hesitating before she speaks. "He said Katherine was Mason's sister."
"Yeah. I should've told you. It's a tangled mess. Damon loved her, Mason protected her, and Tyler idolized her. When she drowned, it broke them all in different ways."
"And Damon blames himself," she finishes, piecing it together. "That's why he's like this."
"Pretty much," Stefan admits quietly. "He was on duty that night. A fierce storm came up fast, and she went on the boat with Mason. Damon tried to get to her, but it was too late. Mason was drunk and reckless but he blamed Damon anyway. Tyler inherited the hate."
"It must've been a horrific storm," Elena remarks, staring at Stefan.
"It was. The wind roared at over sixty knots. Waves fifteen to twenty feet high. Rain fell in sheets. Mason's boat was no match for it. He ignored every warning the Coast Guard put out. Katherine went with him. If Mason knew why she went along, he never told anyone. The storm tore the boat apart.
Damon was on duty at the rescue station when the call came. The other crew warned him about attempting a rescue under those conditions, but he didn't listen. He launched the Zodiac alone and plunged into the storm.
Damon claims he saw her go under but despite repeated dives to search, he couldn't find her. I don't know if he really saw Katherine or if it was his mind playing tricks on him." Stefan pauses to take a swallow of coffee.
"Damon's return was a miracle in itself. He stumbled ashore, hypothermic, bruised, and battered. Mason survived, somehow, washed onto jagged rocks with venom in his veins. He blamed Damon, accusing him of abandoning her, and not doing enough. Never mind that Mason's drunken folly had doomed them all. Tyler was young and impressionable. He drank in his uncle's bitterness and hatred."
"Now Mason's dead, and this bag shows up," Elena counters. "And Tyler thinks it's foul play."
"He's got no evidence." Stefan frowns. Sheriff Forbes will look into it. Don't let Tyler drag you into his vendetta. Damon's a lot of things, but he's not a killer."
She wants to believe him, but doubt gnaws at her. "I'm going to check the pier logs. Tyler said Mason was there the night before last."
"Be careful, Elena. Stirring this up could bring more than answers."
"I know," she says, grabbing her jacket from the locker. "But I need to see for myself."
She leaves the station and walks toward her car. She's not sure what she'll find, but she's done standing still.
Thank you all for reading.
Have an amazing day. ❤️❤️