VD: Gates of Love, part 1
Title: Gates of Love
Author: pith
Spoilers: VD 1-3; an AU in which VD4 onward doesn't exist
Part: 1/2
Disclaimers: Characters and world belong to LJS. I wrote this for Camp NaNoWriMo April 2017, so it's shaky. The Latin quotation is attributed to Juvenal, and the darknesses quotations is from Carl Jung. The title comes from Leonard Cohen's "Closing Time".
Warnings: m/f sexual content (in part 2)
Summary: While mourning Elena, Meredith makes an unexpected connection.
Meredith had forgotten how exhausting it was to be in mourning. She had been young when her grandmother had died, too young to really remember; her memories of the funeral were few and faded, mostly of sad people clad in black, adults switching between English and Spanish with enviable ease. Every other family member who had died since then had been distant enough that she hadn't known them well enough to get overly sentimental: she knew the right words to say and exactly how long to hug them, but that was because she had taught how to play the role. No one had ever told her how to mourn a best friend-someone who was more than a sister, more than a confidant, just more. When it came to Elena Gilbert, the regular rules rarely applied, and they certainly didn't seem to here.
She had spent almost two full days with Bonnie, crying and laughing and sharing stories, but mostly crying, and it left Meredith spent. The whites of her eyes looked rain-grey in the McCulloughs' mirror, nearly blending with her irises; her face was blotchy from being dried so often, and it still hurt to swallow. Bonnie's mom had asked her to stay another night, but Meredith politely declined. She certainly missed her own bed, her own space, but it was more than that. Reminiscing with Bonnie was just making things worse, sending her down some sort of grief spiral that fed on itself, looping under and over until her brain felt like a wad of tangled yarn. That was the only excuse she had for not sensing someone in the backyard when she returned home. Her parents were away on business, an important trip that couldn't be rescheduled, and the housekeeper's car wasn't anywhere in sight, so Meredith would have the house to herself for almost a full day. It wasn't much, but she hoped the sliver of privacy would help her start adjusting to her new post-Elena world.
"Meredith." The voice was so soft she almost thought it was simply the wind, or maybe one of those snarls in her mind working its way free. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she noticed one tree's shadow that looked darker and fuller than the rest. As she blinked, a leg emerged from the darkness, then another, and in a few steps, Damon was standing under the dim sun, casting a shadow solely his own.
"Damon." Meredith scrubbed at her eyes furiously. She hadn't cried for hours, but she could still feel the ghosts of tears on her cheek. "What are you doing here?"
"Checking on you," he replied simply.
He didn't even bother to spin a lie, Meredith marvelled, too drained to step back as he approached. If he planned on murdering her there, in her backyard mere days after Elena had been buried, then that was that. She didn't have it in her to fight fate again quite yet. "I told Stefan I'd be fine," she insisted, swiping at her nose. Her duffle bag bounced against her leg.
Damon barely blinked. "Stefan didn't send me."
Yeah, right. But arguing would take more energy than Meredith possessed at present. The McCulloughs had fed her well and always made sure she and Bonnie had had plenty of water, but all the crying had been physically exhausting: her gut ached and she still found herself squinting, as if her eyes couldn't bear even this meagre amount of sunlight. "Well, I'm fine." After an involuntary sniffle, she added, "Well, I will be. I'm allowed a few days of falling apart, I think."
"Never said you weren't." Damon stopped an arm's length away from her, hands clasped behind his back. "You've been with Bonnie," he added, nodding slightly.
Meredith was starting to feel like she was being interrogated. "Yeah. She's taking it hard. Matt came over for a while too. He and Elena had broken up a while ago now, but he's still hurting."
A hint of Damon's trademark sardonic smile twisted his lips, but it was more bittersweet than brutal. "And who's looking out for you?"
Her lips twitched, but couldn't commit to even a grim smile. "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" Meredith glanced back at her house. It wasn't the largest in Fell's Church, but just then it loomed like an ancient ruin, empty and daunting.
Damon's eyebrow twitched. "I spent decades watching over Stefan. I think I'm duly qualified."
Meredith let out a long breath. It was so tempting to just brush him off and send him away, but then she remembered what Stefan had told her about Elena's dying words, making the brothers promise to take care of each other. Maybe it was more than that; maybe it extended to all of them. "I'm not really in the mood, Damon. I just spent almost two days talking about my feelings."
"So don't talk then." Damon walked past her and sat on the porch stairs. "Sit. I'm good at silence too."
"Is there anything you aren't good at?" Meredith muttered. Still, she trudged over to the porch and sat beside him, both of them staring out at the large trees where he had been waiting. Beside her, the duffel bag slumped.
After a moment, Damon replied, "Macramé, probably, though in all fairness I haven't tried."
Meredith meant to laugh. She drew extra breath for it and shut her eyes, letting the absurdity of the remark wash over her. But it was a sob that made her hunch over, and then she was clinging to her knees, gritting her teeth and cursing everything from Fell's Church and Katherine to school and flimsy tissues. "Maybe," she managed, keeping her blurred gaze on the ground, "you should."
Damon moved down a step and knelt in front of her, gently prying her hands from her knees. "Meredith." He kept his voice low, but it wasn't the halting tones of one trying to calm a frightened animal; it was even, reasonable and resigned, edged with familiarity. "Since you're fond of quotations, here's another: 'Knowing your own darkness is the best method of dealing with the darknesses in other people'."
For a moment, Meredith was struck by the smoothness of his skin. Perhaps there's something to the 'Elizabeth Bathory bathing in blood' story after all, she thought darkly. Her fingers curled loosely around his as her brain kicked into gear, trying to source the quotation. "Carl Jung?" she said at last.
"The very same." Damon was in an awkward half-crouch, but he didn't move an inch. He simply squeezed her hands gently, stroking her knuckles with his thumbs. "I know you've known Elena longer than I have, Meredith. I know your grief is different. But I also know you're not grieving the way your friends are. It's darker in you, deeper. It feels like an overgrown rosebush, doesn't it? You have beautiful memories of Elena all over the place, lovely roses waiting to be touched and smelled, but when you reach for them, the thorns dig in. Every time they scratch a bit deeper. But you can't stop, because the beauty of the memory is worth the pain of capturing it."
Meredith nodded jerkily. Her eyes began to sting and though she thought she had no more tears to shed, wetness welled up between her lashes. "Like poking at a bruise, or peeling off a scab."
"I know." Damon brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. "Let me help you. Stefan is beyond my reach, at least for the moment. Matt will recover in his own time, and Bonnie with him. But you-I understand your darkness." This time, his mouth did quirk up in a smirk. "Sometimes I think that was why we never got along: darkness melts into darkness. We were so alike we could have gotten lost in each other."
Her first instinct was deny it, to retort that she was nothing like him, but she remembered hearing the same dialogue between hero and villain in countless movies. There was something to the theory of opposites attract, she knew; why would you seek out more of the same, more of yourself? "I don't know what you can do to help," Meredith whispered at last. "She's gone and we can't bring her back, and even if we could-would we have the right? She's already had a second chance. Maybe that's all any of us can get."
"At the very least, think of it this way: if Elena knew I could help you but didn't, she would haunt me from the afterlife," Damon pointed out. "So if you can't accept kindness from me, then just see it as self-preservation on my part."
Meredith managed a small smile. "That does sound more like you." She gripped his hands a bit tired. "I . . . appreciate it. I do. But I've been around so many people in the last few days, and I just need a break. I . . . I won't do anything stupid. I promise."
"I know." Damon rose to his feet and helped Meredith to hers, keeping hold of her hands. "When you need me, call." He let go of one of her hands to pull a business card from his pocket. "Or a blue star in your window. I'll look in on you every now and then to make sure you're okay."
"You know that sounds like stalker behaviour, right?" But Meredith still took the card and tucked it in her pocket.
Damon shrugged. "It's a fine line between love and obsession, so they say." He gave her a gentle nudge towards the door. "Go on. I'll wait until you're in your room to leave."
"You don't have to. Dad installed an alarm system; I'm sure the house is fine." The jangle of her keys sounded unbearable to Meredith, so she quickly unlocked the door and stuffed the keys back in her bag.
"All the same." Damon slowly walked backward into the yard, watching as Meredith shut the door and nodding in approval when she relocked it behind her.
The familiar monotony of the getting-home routine helped Meredith ground herself: after flipping the locks, she set the alarm for only the doors and windows and then trudged upstairs, not bothering to look for mail. The answering machine light was blinking furiously, but all those callers could wait. Elena Gilbert was dead now, truly dead, and Meredith felt like there was an abyss in her heart that would swallow her whole if she wasn't careful.
After tossing her bag on her bed, Meredith went to her window and raised a hand; even waving somehow felt wrong. Damon acknowledged her with a nod before stepping back into the shadows of the trees, and a moment later, a crow flew over the house-or perhaps settled on the chimney. Meredith wasn't sure she wanted to know which.
#
Meredith didn't think of Damon's blue-star offer for at least a week, and it took her another three weeks to find one she liked. Eventually she found a blue star-shaped suncatcher at a charity fundraiser a few towns over when she went shopping with Bonnie and her family, and it seemed like a good compromise: the proceeds went to an ailing child's medical fund, and the suncatcher would add some colour to her room.
Nights were always the worst. During the day, she kept busy with her classes and college applications and all her sports. Even some evenings were okay: she would hang out with Bonnie or practice football with Matt. Once the sun went down, though, and the sky was as dark as the inside of her head, that was when Meredith's strength wavered. He won't see it, she thought as she relented and hung the blue star in her window. It was a particularly rough night: her parents were off on business again, Matt was away with the football team, and Bonnie was trying to rekindle her friendship with Caroline, something Meredith had little interest in. The loneliness felt like a garbage can filled to the brim with every rotten thought and feeling Meredith had ever had, and there was no lid to keep the mess from her sight.
After leaving her curtains open just a crack, Meredith retreated to her bed, curling up under the covers. The winter had gone mild after Elena's passing, as if she were trying to soothe them all from the great beyond, but Meredith would have preferred the cold. The unseasonable weather just reminded her how unnatural everything was now. As her head sank down into her pillow, Meredith started cataloguing all the little house sounds she could only notice when she was home alone: the little ping-ping in the air ducts just before the furnace cut in, the rustle of her sheets as she turned, even the rasp of her breathing. How do Stefan and Damon stand it, she wondered, being so aware of EVERYTHING?
When she heard the gentle tap, Meredith assumed it was the furnace at first, but realized it had just shut off. Then the light coming in through the gap in the curtains fractured, cut lengthwise by a triangular shape. A beak. It was an oddly upbeat revelation in her head, so out of place that it almost burned in its brightness. Meredith eased out of bed, shrugged on her long cardigan and went to the window, reminding herself to be cautious. Damon, after all, wasn't the only vampire in the world who could take an avian form; for that matter, it could simply be a random natural bird, attracted by the glint of the blue star suncatcher in the moonlight.
When she opened the curtain halfway, Meredith saw a dark bird perched on her sill and though she felt rather silly doing so, she murmured, "Damon?" The bird bobbed its head as if nodding at first, and then made the motion more vehemently, as if trying to hammer something with its beak. "Downstairs?" Meredith interpreted. When the bird nodded again, she found herself echoing the motion.
Jamming her feet into slippers as an afterthought, Meredith hurried downstairs, grabbing her keys from the entry table as she wondered if she should put on a coat. Impatience got the better of her, though, and she headed out as she was, only locking the deadbolt behind her. Once she was out in the dark night, she cursed herself for not turning on the porch light. When she reached for the door again, she heard the short, simple word: "Don't." A moment later, she could make out Damon's form at the end of the porch, sitting where the swing would be come spring. "You'll attract attention from your neighbours."
"Right. Sorry." She didn't bother asking how he knew what she was going for. She simply put her keys in her cardigan pocket and walked over to him. "How did you. . . ?"
Damon pointed up to her window. "You put out a star," he said simply.
Meredith lowered herself beside him and wrapped her arms around herself. "I know, but . . . how? I mean, you can't possibly fly by every day and every night. . . ." She glanced over at him and saw nothing but the moonlight glinting off his eyes. "You aren't. You aren't," she insisted, twisting to face him. "Damon, you said every now and then. . . ."
He merely shrugged. "Not every day, perhaps. I'm checking in on Stefan as well. Even I can only accomplish so much in a day."
How often did he check on her? When he did, how long did he stay? Meredith wanted to know and was afraid to ask so she simply kept staring at him until the sculpted planes of his face seemed to waver in the moonlight. "Damon, you don't have to. You . . . you need to take care of yourself. You need to move on."
"I am. In my own way." He turned to face her, putting them mere inches apart; his head thudded against the porch railing. "So. The blue star."
"Yeah. I-" Now that he was here, Meredith felt foolish. She couldn't expect him to come swooping in-she laughed inwardly at the unintentional pun-every time grief snuck up on her. "I'm good now. Sorry for the false alarm."
"Now," Damon echoed. "Implying you weren't earlier."
The darkness should have been the perfect cover for a lie, but Meredith couldn't bring herself to. She didn't have to be strong for Damon. She did for Bonnie and Stefan and Matt, but not for him. It had been a while since she had felt the delicious freedom of not needing to be someone else's rock while she was in the middle of her own storm. "No, I just-everything was piling up. All these things that make me think of Elena. I fill out my college applications, and I feel like I should be helping Elena with hers. When I go to swim laps, I think I can hear her cheering, but no one's there. At least not for me." She hurried on, not wanting to give Damon the time-or any reason-to criticise her friends. "School's different, more muted. It's like Elena's some invisible wall now that none of us know how to move around."
"Maybe you need a change of scenery then," Damon suggested, stretching out his legs.
Following his lead, Meredith extended hers, wiggling the slippers off her toes. The night would grow too cold for her pyjamas and cardigan in a while, but for the time being, it felt like a private little wonderland, dark and crisp and quiet. "I can't transfer schools now. It would be too much hassle-"
"Not schools. People. Thoughts." Damon gestured vaguely, his hand eerily white in the moonlight. "You're still steeped in an Elena-filled world. The school you go to, the friends you know, the sports you do. Start something new, something without any tinge of Elena to it."
Meredith gave a weak grin. "Like macramé?"
"Like macramé. Or some martial art you've wanted to try. Get a pet even. Bring something into your world that wasn't there when Elena was." Damon blinked slowly, and Meredith found herself watching the shadows cast by his eyelashes.
"I could," Meredith said at last. "Mom and Dad are gone quite a bit. I could convince them it would be good to have a dog or cat around." Leaning back, Meredith toyed with the hem of her cardigan. "Thank you for coming," she added softly. "I promise I won't . . . summon you too often."
Damon let his head fall to the side again so he could study her. "Summon away. I don't make empty offers, Meredith."
They fell silent for a while, enjoying the tranquility of the night. Meredith nudged his hand gently with hers and whispered, "I'm your macramé, aren't I?"
Damon jerked a bit and sat up, keeping his hand by Meredith's. "What do you mean?"
"I'm your macramé," she repeated, smiling softly. "Bring something into your world that wasn't there when Elena was. That's what you told me. And that's what I am for you."
He reached over and tapped Meredith's temple, fingers lingering in her hair. "Perhaps grief has addled your memory, Meredith, but I assure you that you were in my sphere when Elena was. You helped shape her and she you; anyone can see that."
Adamant, Meredith shook her head, turning to face him. "I was there, but I wasn't on your radar. I was wallpaper. I was background. I was the annoying fly to bat away. Your world was Elena first, you second, and your animosity for your brother a vague third. If someone asked you, you probably couldn't have even told them what my name was."
"Not true." The vehemence in the reply was daunting; Meredith felt unworthy of it.
"It's not a bad thing," Meredith insisted. "It's . . . Elena. She always had a way of pulling people into her orbit. Once you were hers, that was that. Even Caroline couldn't fully escape it, though she tried."
Another silence fell between them, this one more laden, and Damon was the one to break it. "You should get back to sleep. But put up the star any time." He stood and when Meredith started to protest, he kissed the top of her head. "Any time, Meredith. I mean it."
"Okay." Meredith rose slowly, stretching out her legs. The chill of night was starting to settle in, but she had one more favour to ask. "If you're still in town in the morning, maybe . . . a fly-along to school would be nice. But only if you don't mind."
Damon reached over and smoothed her hair down again. "What time do you want me here?"
Heat pricked at Meredith's cheeks. She hadn't expected him to agree so readily, at least not without some snide teasing about needing a chaperon. "Oh. Um, around eight, if that's not too early?"
"Eight it is." With a slight bow of his head, Damon returned to the shadowy cover of the trees and a moment later, a crow took to the sky, briefly silhouetted by the moon.
Sleep came amazingly quickly after his visit, and Meredith felt wholly refreshed, even though she and Damon really hadn't spoken much at all. After eating a quick breakfast and treating herself to a longer hot shower, she got dressed-taking care to make sure her curtains were fully closed-and headed out to face the day.
The crow on the porch, though, was still somewhat of a surprise. "You came," she said softly. The neighbourhood would be busy at this hour, full of people leaving their houses for work and school, so she couldn't speak as freely as she could at night.
Hopping up to the railing, the crow bobbed its head and cawed as if to say Of course. You doubted me?
For the first time in weeks, Meredith felt tears flood her eyes again. "Thank you." She quickly dried off her face and, after a moment's hesitation, gingerly patted the crow's head. "I mean it. Thank you." Then she set off, eschewing her car as she had been for the past few weeks. It was a bit of a walk to the school, but she used the time to build up her resolve, her reserves of strength. Even now, over a month after Elena's death, students and teachers alike were still giving her pitying looks.
The way to the school was lined with tall, healthy trees, and the crow flitted between them as Meredith walked, swooping lower when she was alone and taking refuge up high when someone else was near. At the edge of the school property, Meredith stepped behind a cluster of trees and glanced around. "Thank you, Damon."
Damon shifted forms easily, standing close to Meredith in the small space. "You're welcome." The next awkward pause was his, and too late Meredith remembered how he followed Elena in his avian form, shadowing her life. "If your parents aren't back tonight, perhaps we could talk again."
Meredith was careful not to wince. Her parents would be returning in the afternoon, but the thought of an evening holed up with them and their careful psychological observations made her want to scream. "They're coming back in today," she admitted, "but I can tell them I have a group project or something. I . . . don't feel up to dealing with them right now."
"If you're sure." Damon's gaze slid to the side.
"I am. I won't be able to get out of dinner," Meredith added, "but after seven-"
"Good. Seven it is, then." Without warning, Damon turned back into a crow and flew away.
Meredith's school day seemed to crawl by, and every time she saw movement outside a classroom window, she found herself wondering if it was a crow looking in. For the most part, she hoped not: Damon had healing of his own to do, and he couldn't do it if he was lingering in Elena's old hometown, around the periphery of her old life. But that didn't stop her from looking all the same.
#
Meredith wasn't a clock-watcher by nature, but her parents' attempts at casual glances were weighing heavily on her and seven o'clock-the time she had agreed to meet Damon-couldn't come soon enough. Eventually, she gave up pretending and rose from the table. "I have to go to the library," she announced. "We have a group project." School duties always ranked highly with her parents, so she doubted they would protest.
"Group projects this late in the term?" Her father snorted in disapproval. "Surely your teachers realize how much marks mean at this stage. You shouldn't have your grades in jeopardy because some of your classmates are slackers."
"I'm in a pretty decent group," Meredith fibbed smoothly, finishing her water and taking her plate and glass to the dishwasher. "I don't think that will be a problem." To be safe, she added, "I'm not sure how late I'll be. This is our first meeting, so we have a lot to cover."
Her mother rose from the table to kiss her cheek. "Of course. Call if you need anything. And be safe." Gabriella would never say Remember what happened to Elena, but Meredith almost wished she would so she could get it out of her system.
"I will. Don't wait up. We can catch up more tomorrow." Meredith headed for the stairs to grab her school bag. After putting in a few choice textbooks, some pens, and a binder full of paper, she went back downstairs. "We might not stay at the library," she added, seeding an alibi in case she needed one. "Depends on how busy it is. We might go to someone's house." She didn't ask to invite her fictional project group to the Sulez house. She had learned long ago that her parents didn't like strangers in the house; it had taken them weeks to even warm up to the idea of Elena and Bonnie over, and that was when the girls were all in elementary school.
Meredith's father nodded behind his newspaper from Spain. "I think you should take another martial art," he said in passing. "But we can talk about that tomorrow."
"All right. Good night." To be on the safe side, Meredith waited until she was out of the house and almost at the garage to roll her eyes. Her parents' stifling control had always bothered her to some degree, but she understood their reasoning for it; lately, though, it had been chafing more than ever. Harvard, she reminded herself. Once she heard back from her top university choices, she could start planning out her escape from Fell's Church.
Elena never got out. The thought stopped Meredith with her hand on the garage door. Not the way she wanted. She had thought about that right after the funeral as well, but it didn't depress her as much now. Now it was more a reminder, a call to arms. She couldn't, Meredith thought firmly, but I can, and I can do it in her honour.
"Meredith." Damon's voice was soft and low, and while it didn't surprise Meredith on its own, her reaction to it did. Once upon a time, she would have avoided Damon because he annoyed her-or, if she were truly honest, because he frightened her a bit. Now she welcomed his voice. In her topsy-turvy world, Damon's inscrutability was a comforting constant.
She managed a quick smile. "Hi. I told my parents I'm going to the library, so I need to take my car, but I can park it somewhere." She pushed the garage door open but hesitated before crossing the threshold. "Did you want to fly, or. . . ?" Meredith gestured vaguely at her car. It was no fancy Italian sports car, but it did the trick in Fell's Church.
Damon's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Probably best for your sterling reputation if I flew. Don't worry. I'll keep up." He stepped back into the shadows cast by the garage and transformed into a crow.
After Meredith backed out of the garage, she spotted the waiting crow and waved awkwardly before heading out. To add credence to her alibi, she headed to the library, parking at the far end of the lot and opening her window so Damon could perch on the door. "Any place in mind you would like to go?" After a moment's hesitation, she added, "I haven't been to Elena's grave in a while, but I don't know. . . ."
The crow bobbed its head in an emphatic nod and rose back into the sky, so Meredith took that as a yes. Damon had easier routes to the cemetery, but he gamely followed Meredith in her car. When she parked, he settled down by her trunk and changed forms again. "If you had wanted to come earlier," he said smoothly, as if their conversation hadn't been broken by distance and species, "you only had to ask."
Meredith shrugged awkwardly, double-checking that she had locked her car before stepping onto the trail. "I didn't know if you'd want to. I don't think Bonnie's ready for it, and I don't want to bother Matt. But I don't want to go by myself either. I don't tr-" She stopped herself quickly, focussing on her footsteps.
"Meredith." Damon stepped in front of her and grasped her shoulder. "Be honest. That's what I was going to talk to you about." Now he looked awkward, his dark gaze flicking over to the trees. "You need to be honest with yourself-and with me-if you want to move on."
"And you?" Meredith crossed her arms in front of her and tried to look stern, but she was sure she failed miserably. "Are you going to be honest?"
Damon held her gaze without flinching, without fear, and nodded. "Yes."
Something about the intensity of his gaze made Meredith shiver, and it was her turn to look away. "Okay then." She started walking towards Elena's grave as she tried to even out her breathing. Why did I suggest here? she cursed herself. The cemetery had seen so much of her weaknesses, her darknesses; it was as if she couldn't lie there.
Curling her arm around his elbow, Damon kept pace with her, glancing over on occasion. "Be honest," he repeated, "even when it hurts."
Meredith's lips twitched. "Hurts me or hurts you?" she countered.
"Either. Both." Damon allowed her another small silence before continuing. "You said you didn't want to come here by yourself. Why?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm here now, right?" Meredith focussed her gaze straight ahead. Why did I ever promise to be honest? That never ends well. She had learned that lesson with Elena years ago, though it hadn't stopped her from calling out Elena on her transgressions.
"Be honest." Now Damon's voice was a wicked little sing-song, and it was almost a relief to have him back to his normal form. That was the Damon she was used to dealing with, not this newer, deeper one.
What could it hurt? Meredith's mind rebelled. Elena had been the person in her life who understood her the most; she had been the most honest with Elena, even if that meant holding some things back and embellishing others. She didn't want to dump her darkness on Bonnie or Matt; they were struggling enough already. But Damon was different. He was older, stronger, more bitter; she didn't really care anymore if he thought she was some weak, silly little girl. Maybe in the wake of Elena's death, they could help build each other back up. If they went on their separate ways after that, well, that was life. Meredith had never expected to keep her high school friends forever; that was a rarity, something more likely to happen in movies than in real life. "I don't trust myself to be alone here," she blurted out. The weakness seemed to stab her from the inside out, and she placed her free hand on her belly as if covering a wound. "I mean, I wouldn't . . . I wouldn't . . . you know. I wouldn't do that to my parents or to . . . her. But I just don't think I can be here alone. Not yet, anyway."
Damon stayed silent until they reached Elena's grave. After bending to kiss the relatively new headstone, he sat down and motioned for Meredith to join him. The groundskeepers had kept the area so tidy it looked like a patch of someone's lawn-aside from the carved slab of stone, of course. "You loved her, didn't you?"
"Yes." Meredith didn't qualify her answer and Damon didn't ask her to; explanations wouldn't begin to touch the truth of it. She sat beside Damon, their knees touching, and put her hands in her lap to keep her fingers from tracing Elena's name in the stone. The dates on the stone seemed to defy mathematics, defy reason; Meredith felt so much older now, as if her bones were simply going to crumble into a heap any moment.
"You hated her too, I imagine." That earned Damon a sharp glare, but he didn't flinch. "Hate and love are too close not to touch. For someone to affect you that deeply, you had to let them get close in the first place."
Meredith shut her eyes for a moment, letting the gentle breeze coast over her cheeks. "Much like you loved and hated Stefan, I would say. Stefan was the nice one, the one who was loved and celebrated and respected. And Elena was vibrant one, the one who attracted friends and boyfriends and could make anyone do almost anything. She outshone me; Stefan overshadowed you." Then she let out a long breath and shrugged. "But hate? No. Elena was so many things I wasn't. Being her friend let me experience those things up close, if not first-hand. My life would have been so much duller without her."
"My life without Stefan would have been far more . . . erratic," Damon allowed, plucking a blade of grass and using it to trace the seams of his pants. "All swooping highs and abysmal lows, with precious little balance in between. Not horrible at first glance, but. . . ."
"You enliven Stefan's life. He balances yours." Meredith bumped shoulders with him. "Both are good, and necessary." She caught herself before she could let her head rest on Damon's shoulder. "Have you talked with Stefan recently?"
Damon nodded briefly. "He's retreated to Italy for the time being, but not Florence. Too many memories, even after our city has changed so much. He's in Venice right now. He says he finds the canals soothing."
Meredith wondered how much of that was Stefan still battling with his vampire nature. After all, if evil couldn't cross running water, almost every time he went out in Venice, his goodness was reaffirmed. Do canals count as running water? She didn't let herself dwell on the technicality. "And you? Where do you go when you aren't here or Italy?"
"France, often. I might try Spain next." Damon glanced over at her. "Have you ever been?"
Meredith shook her head. "No. Apparently there's some deep-seated animosity on Dad's side of the family, and he's thrown his allegiance in with the North American branch. It seems beautiful, though, from what I've seen."
"You should go. Isn't your spring break coming up soon?" Damon steeled his jaw, as if trying to keep further words in.
The temptation to say Be honest was almost unbearable, but Meredith restrained herself. "I've got too much school stuff to deal with. I want to go to university out of state, so I have to keep focussed. I suppose I could apply abroad, though. If I can get into Harvard," she mused, "Oxford might not be a stretch." Then she laughed. "But you didn't ask to talk so you could hear me natter about my post-secondary options. What did you want to talk about?"
"This." Damon dropped the blade of grass, slid his hand along her jaw, and moved up to kiss her.
Some distant part of Meredith's mind wailed about how wrong it was, kissing a man Elena had loved while sitting at her grave. The closer, louder parts marvelled at how soft his lips were, how gentle his hand was on her jaw, how he didn't taste of blood at all but rather something like sparkling water. She tried to twist around so she could lean into him, but the sound of car doors slamming startled them both back from each other. "I . . . I see."
Damon brushed a thumb across her lips before helping her stand. "We promised to be honest," he said simply, "and I wanted to kiss you. So."
"So." Meredith could hear people approaching, but she didn't want to move. Her chest was skimming Damon's and her heart was thundering and she felt more alive than she had in weeks. Is this what it felt like to be Elena? If it was, she didn't know how Elena managed; Meredith would have been overwhelmed in a matter of days. Keeping the world at a distance made it easier to deal with; Damon made the world small, pressed it into a kiss, and Meredith's skin was still tingling. "Um. When you say you wanted to kiss me. . . ." She trailed off. It would have been pure vanity to ask how long he had wanted to, how long he had thought about it.
Vanity, apparently, didn't dissuade him. Damon pulled her close enough that her hands curled around his sides and he lowered his mouth to hers again. "For a while," he murmured. "If we're being honest."
"We are." Meredith was prepared for the next kiss, or so she thought, but it still made her dizzy and warm, as if her heartbeat was pressing against every square inch of her skin.
"Good." Damon tightened an arm around her waist and pulled their entangled bodies into the shadow of a thick-trunked tree, away from the prying eyes of anyone who might be on the trail.
They kissed so long it made Meredith's jaw ache, but she didn't even consider stopping until the sweeping beam of a flashlight made the insides of her eyelids bloom with pulsing red blotches. "The guard," she managed, her lips and tongue forgetting they were also used to form words. "It's probably time to lock up the gate."
"Ah." Damon pulled back and Meredith was annoyingly pleased to find that he was quite rumpled himself. "Back to the car, then." Meredith's heartbeat must have sped up, because he glanced over at her with a knowing smile. "To get you home. The last thing you need is your parents looking for you and finding you looking all. . . ." As he paused, he tilted up Meredith's chin with a finger and brushed a kiss across her lips. "Undone."
"I'm not undone," Meredith insisted, giving him a half-hearted shove as they walked. "Flustered, maybe. And a bit . . . confused. But not undone."
"No? Pity." Once they reached Meredith's car, Damon waited to make sure she got inside safely. "I'll have to do better next time."
Next time. The words raced through Meredith's head like a forest fire, devouring any protest, any rationale, any doubt. "We'll see. Depends on when I put out the blue star, doesn't it?"
"Perhaps." Damon stepped into the gap between the open door and the car and leaned down. "Will you be fine getting home?"
Meredith nodded. "Yeah. Some time to think will be good." She tried to steady her hands against the steering wheel, but they were still tingling.
"Drive safe." Damon gave her a quick parting kiss. "I'll be watching for a star."
"Okay." Meredith waited until he transformed to drive away, but she quickly lost sight of the crow in the darkening sky. Then she did go to the library for real, even though it too was about to close. She needed to freshen up and make sure she didn't look as frazzled as she felt before facing her parents-and she wanted to get home before her better sense rewrote the memory of the kiss and tried to turn it into something twisted, tainted. So few good things had happened since Elena's death; she didn't want to lose sight of those that did.
Author: pith
Spoilers: VD 1-3; an AU in which VD4 onward doesn't exist
Part: 1/2
Disclaimers: Characters and world belong to LJS. I wrote this for Camp NaNoWriMo April 2017, so it's shaky. The Latin quotation is attributed to Juvenal, and the darknesses quotations is from Carl Jung. The title comes from Leonard Cohen's "Closing Time".
Warnings: m/f sexual content (in part 2)
Summary: While mourning Elena, Meredith makes an unexpected connection.
Meredith had forgotten how exhausting it was to be in mourning. She had been young when her grandmother had died, too young to really remember; her memories of the funeral were few and faded, mostly of sad people clad in black, adults switching between English and Spanish with enviable ease. Every other family member who had died since then had been distant enough that she hadn't known them well enough to get overly sentimental: she knew the right words to say and exactly how long to hug them, but that was because she had taught how to play the role. No one had ever told her how to mourn a best friend-someone who was more than a sister, more than a confidant, just more. When it came to Elena Gilbert, the regular rules rarely applied, and they certainly didn't seem to here.
She had spent almost two full days with Bonnie, crying and laughing and sharing stories, but mostly crying, and it left Meredith spent. The whites of her eyes looked rain-grey in the McCulloughs' mirror, nearly blending with her irises; her face was blotchy from being dried so often, and it still hurt to swallow. Bonnie's mom had asked her to stay another night, but Meredith politely declined. She certainly missed her own bed, her own space, but it was more than that. Reminiscing with Bonnie was just making things worse, sending her down some sort of grief spiral that fed on itself, looping under and over until her brain felt like a wad of tangled yarn. That was the only excuse she had for not sensing someone in the backyard when she returned home. Her parents were away on business, an important trip that couldn't be rescheduled, and the housekeeper's car wasn't anywhere in sight, so Meredith would have the house to herself for almost a full day. It wasn't much, but she hoped the sliver of privacy would help her start adjusting to her new post-Elena world.
"Meredith." The voice was so soft she almost thought it was simply the wind, or maybe one of those snarls in her mind working its way free. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she noticed one tree's shadow that looked darker and fuller than the rest. As she blinked, a leg emerged from the darkness, then another, and in a few steps, Damon was standing under the dim sun, casting a shadow solely his own.
"Damon." Meredith scrubbed at her eyes furiously. She hadn't cried for hours, but she could still feel the ghosts of tears on her cheek. "What are you doing here?"
"Checking on you," he replied simply.
He didn't even bother to spin a lie, Meredith marvelled, too drained to step back as he approached. If he planned on murdering her there, in her backyard mere days after Elena had been buried, then that was that. She didn't have it in her to fight fate again quite yet. "I told Stefan I'd be fine," she insisted, swiping at her nose. Her duffle bag bounced against her leg.
Damon barely blinked. "Stefan didn't send me."
Yeah, right. But arguing would take more energy than Meredith possessed at present. The McCulloughs had fed her well and always made sure she and Bonnie had had plenty of water, but all the crying had been physically exhausting: her gut ached and she still found herself squinting, as if her eyes couldn't bear even this meagre amount of sunlight. "Well, I'm fine." After an involuntary sniffle, she added, "Well, I will be. I'm allowed a few days of falling apart, I think."
"Never said you weren't." Damon stopped an arm's length away from her, hands clasped behind his back. "You've been with Bonnie," he added, nodding slightly.
Meredith was starting to feel like she was being interrogated. "Yeah. She's taking it hard. Matt came over for a while too. He and Elena had broken up a while ago now, but he's still hurting."
A hint of Damon's trademark sardonic smile twisted his lips, but it was more bittersweet than brutal. "And who's looking out for you?"
Her lips twitched, but couldn't commit to even a grim smile. "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" Meredith glanced back at her house. It wasn't the largest in Fell's Church, but just then it loomed like an ancient ruin, empty and daunting.
Damon's eyebrow twitched. "I spent decades watching over Stefan. I think I'm duly qualified."
Meredith let out a long breath. It was so tempting to just brush him off and send him away, but then she remembered what Stefan had told her about Elena's dying words, making the brothers promise to take care of each other. Maybe it was more than that; maybe it extended to all of them. "I'm not really in the mood, Damon. I just spent almost two days talking about my feelings."
"So don't talk then." Damon walked past her and sat on the porch stairs. "Sit. I'm good at silence too."
"Is there anything you aren't good at?" Meredith muttered. Still, she trudged over to the porch and sat beside him, both of them staring out at the large trees where he had been waiting. Beside her, the duffel bag slumped.
After a moment, Damon replied, "Macramé, probably, though in all fairness I haven't tried."
Meredith meant to laugh. She drew extra breath for it and shut her eyes, letting the absurdity of the remark wash over her. But it was a sob that made her hunch over, and then she was clinging to her knees, gritting her teeth and cursing everything from Fell's Church and Katherine to school and flimsy tissues. "Maybe," she managed, keeping her blurred gaze on the ground, "you should."
Damon moved down a step and knelt in front of her, gently prying her hands from her knees. "Meredith." He kept his voice low, but it wasn't the halting tones of one trying to calm a frightened animal; it was even, reasonable and resigned, edged with familiarity. "Since you're fond of quotations, here's another: 'Knowing your own darkness is the best method of dealing with the darknesses in other people'."
For a moment, Meredith was struck by the smoothness of his skin. Perhaps there's something to the 'Elizabeth Bathory bathing in blood' story after all, she thought darkly. Her fingers curled loosely around his as her brain kicked into gear, trying to source the quotation. "Carl Jung?" she said at last.
"The very same." Damon was in an awkward half-crouch, but he didn't move an inch. He simply squeezed her hands gently, stroking her knuckles with his thumbs. "I know you've known Elena longer than I have, Meredith. I know your grief is different. But I also know you're not grieving the way your friends are. It's darker in you, deeper. It feels like an overgrown rosebush, doesn't it? You have beautiful memories of Elena all over the place, lovely roses waiting to be touched and smelled, but when you reach for them, the thorns dig in. Every time they scratch a bit deeper. But you can't stop, because the beauty of the memory is worth the pain of capturing it."
Meredith nodded jerkily. Her eyes began to sting and though she thought she had no more tears to shed, wetness welled up between her lashes. "Like poking at a bruise, or peeling off a scab."
"I know." Damon brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. "Let me help you. Stefan is beyond my reach, at least for the moment. Matt will recover in his own time, and Bonnie with him. But you-I understand your darkness." This time, his mouth did quirk up in a smirk. "Sometimes I think that was why we never got along: darkness melts into darkness. We were so alike we could have gotten lost in each other."
Her first instinct was deny it, to retort that she was nothing like him, but she remembered hearing the same dialogue between hero and villain in countless movies. There was something to the theory of opposites attract, she knew; why would you seek out more of the same, more of yourself? "I don't know what you can do to help," Meredith whispered at last. "She's gone and we can't bring her back, and even if we could-would we have the right? She's already had a second chance. Maybe that's all any of us can get."
"At the very least, think of it this way: if Elena knew I could help you but didn't, she would haunt me from the afterlife," Damon pointed out. "So if you can't accept kindness from me, then just see it as self-preservation on my part."
Meredith managed a small smile. "That does sound more like you." She gripped his hands a bit tired. "I . . . appreciate it. I do. But I've been around so many people in the last few days, and I just need a break. I . . . I won't do anything stupid. I promise."
"I know." Damon rose to his feet and helped Meredith to hers, keeping hold of her hands. "When you need me, call." He let go of one of her hands to pull a business card from his pocket. "Or a blue star in your window. I'll look in on you every now and then to make sure you're okay."
"You know that sounds like stalker behaviour, right?" But Meredith still took the card and tucked it in her pocket.
Damon shrugged. "It's a fine line between love and obsession, so they say." He gave her a gentle nudge towards the door. "Go on. I'll wait until you're in your room to leave."
"You don't have to. Dad installed an alarm system; I'm sure the house is fine." The jangle of her keys sounded unbearable to Meredith, so she quickly unlocked the door and stuffed the keys back in her bag.
"All the same." Damon slowly walked backward into the yard, watching as Meredith shut the door and nodding in approval when she relocked it behind her.
The familiar monotony of the getting-home routine helped Meredith ground herself: after flipping the locks, she set the alarm for only the doors and windows and then trudged upstairs, not bothering to look for mail. The answering machine light was blinking furiously, but all those callers could wait. Elena Gilbert was dead now, truly dead, and Meredith felt like there was an abyss in her heart that would swallow her whole if she wasn't careful.
After tossing her bag on her bed, Meredith went to her window and raised a hand; even waving somehow felt wrong. Damon acknowledged her with a nod before stepping back into the shadows of the trees, and a moment later, a crow flew over the house-or perhaps settled on the chimney. Meredith wasn't sure she wanted to know which.
#
Meredith didn't think of Damon's blue-star offer for at least a week, and it took her another three weeks to find one she liked. Eventually she found a blue star-shaped suncatcher at a charity fundraiser a few towns over when she went shopping with Bonnie and her family, and it seemed like a good compromise: the proceeds went to an ailing child's medical fund, and the suncatcher would add some colour to her room.
Nights were always the worst. During the day, she kept busy with her classes and college applications and all her sports. Even some evenings were okay: she would hang out with Bonnie or practice football with Matt. Once the sun went down, though, and the sky was as dark as the inside of her head, that was when Meredith's strength wavered. He won't see it, she thought as she relented and hung the blue star in her window. It was a particularly rough night: her parents were off on business again, Matt was away with the football team, and Bonnie was trying to rekindle her friendship with Caroline, something Meredith had little interest in. The loneliness felt like a garbage can filled to the brim with every rotten thought and feeling Meredith had ever had, and there was no lid to keep the mess from her sight.
After leaving her curtains open just a crack, Meredith retreated to her bed, curling up under the covers. The winter had gone mild after Elena's passing, as if she were trying to soothe them all from the great beyond, but Meredith would have preferred the cold. The unseasonable weather just reminded her how unnatural everything was now. As her head sank down into her pillow, Meredith started cataloguing all the little house sounds she could only notice when she was home alone: the little ping-ping in the air ducts just before the furnace cut in, the rustle of her sheets as she turned, even the rasp of her breathing. How do Stefan and Damon stand it, she wondered, being so aware of EVERYTHING?
When she heard the gentle tap, Meredith assumed it was the furnace at first, but realized it had just shut off. Then the light coming in through the gap in the curtains fractured, cut lengthwise by a triangular shape. A beak. It was an oddly upbeat revelation in her head, so out of place that it almost burned in its brightness. Meredith eased out of bed, shrugged on her long cardigan and went to the window, reminding herself to be cautious. Damon, after all, wasn't the only vampire in the world who could take an avian form; for that matter, it could simply be a random natural bird, attracted by the glint of the blue star suncatcher in the moonlight.
When she opened the curtain halfway, Meredith saw a dark bird perched on her sill and though she felt rather silly doing so, she murmured, "Damon?" The bird bobbed its head as if nodding at first, and then made the motion more vehemently, as if trying to hammer something with its beak. "Downstairs?" Meredith interpreted. When the bird nodded again, she found herself echoing the motion.
Jamming her feet into slippers as an afterthought, Meredith hurried downstairs, grabbing her keys from the entry table as she wondered if she should put on a coat. Impatience got the better of her, though, and she headed out as she was, only locking the deadbolt behind her. Once she was out in the dark night, she cursed herself for not turning on the porch light. When she reached for the door again, she heard the short, simple word: "Don't." A moment later, she could make out Damon's form at the end of the porch, sitting where the swing would be come spring. "You'll attract attention from your neighbours."
"Right. Sorry." She didn't bother asking how he knew what she was going for. She simply put her keys in her cardigan pocket and walked over to him. "How did you. . . ?"
Damon pointed up to her window. "You put out a star," he said simply.
Meredith lowered herself beside him and wrapped her arms around herself. "I know, but . . . how? I mean, you can't possibly fly by every day and every night. . . ." She glanced over at him and saw nothing but the moonlight glinting off his eyes. "You aren't. You aren't," she insisted, twisting to face him. "Damon, you said every now and then. . . ."
He merely shrugged. "Not every day, perhaps. I'm checking in on Stefan as well. Even I can only accomplish so much in a day."
How often did he check on her? When he did, how long did he stay? Meredith wanted to know and was afraid to ask so she simply kept staring at him until the sculpted planes of his face seemed to waver in the moonlight. "Damon, you don't have to. You . . . you need to take care of yourself. You need to move on."
"I am. In my own way." He turned to face her, putting them mere inches apart; his head thudded against the porch railing. "So. The blue star."
"Yeah. I-" Now that he was here, Meredith felt foolish. She couldn't expect him to come swooping in-she laughed inwardly at the unintentional pun-every time grief snuck up on her. "I'm good now. Sorry for the false alarm."
"Now," Damon echoed. "Implying you weren't earlier."
The darkness should have been the perfect cover for a lie, but Meredith couldn't bring herself to. She didn't have to be strong for Damon. She did for Bonnie and Stefan and Matt, but not for him. It had been a while since she had felt the delicious freedom of not needing to be someone else's rock while she was in the middle of her own storm. "No, I just-everything was piling up. All these things that make me think of Elena. I fill out my college applications, and I feel like I should be helping Elena with hers. When I go to swim laps, I think I can hear her cheering, but no one's there. At least not for me." She hurried on, not wanting to give Damon the time-or any reason-to criticise her friends. "School's different, more muted. It's like Elena's some invisible wall now that none of us know how to move around."
"Maybe you need a change of scenery then," Damon suggested, stretching out his legs.
Following his lead, Meredith extended hers, wiggling the slippers off her toes. The night would grow too cold for her pyjamas and cardigan in a while, but for the time being, it felt like a private little wonderland, dark and crisp and quiet. "I can't transfer schools now. It would be too much hassle-"
"Not schools. People. Thoughts." Damon gestured vaguely, his hand eerily white in the moonlight. "You're still steeped in an Elena-filled world. The school you go to, the friends you know, the sports you do. Start something new, something without any tinge of Elena to it."
Meredith gave a weak grin. "Like macramé?"
"Like macramé. Or some martial art you've wanted to try. Get a pet even. Bring something into your world that wasn't there when Elena was." Damon blinked slowly, and Meredith found herself watching the shadows cast by his eyelashes.
"I could," Meredith said at last. "Mom and Dad are gone quite a bit. I could convince them it would be good to have a dog or cat around." Leaning back, Meredith toyed with the hem of her cardigan. "Thank you for coming," she added softly. "I promise I won't . . . summon you too often."
Damon let his head fall to the side again so he could study her. "Summon away. I don't make empty offers, Meredith."
They fell silent for a while, enjoying the tranquility of the night. Meredith nudged his hand gently with hers and whispered, "I'm your macramé, aren't I?"
Damon jerked a bit and sat up, keeping his hand by Meredith's. "What do you mean?"
"I'm your macramé," she repeated, smiling softly. "Bring something into your world that wasn't there when Elena was. That's what you told me. And that's what I am for you."
He reached over and tapped Meredith's temple, fingers lingering in her hair. "Perhaps grief has addled your memory, Meredith, but I assure you that you were in my sphere when Elena was. You helped shape her and she you; anyone can see that."
Adamant, Meredith shook her head, turning to face him. "I was there, but I wasn't on your radar. I was wallpaper. I was background. I was the annoying fly to bat away. Your world was Elena first, you second, and your animosity for your brother a vague third. If someone asked you, you probably couldn't have even told them what my name was."
"Not true." The vehemence in the reply was daunting; Meredith felt unworthy of it.
"It's not a bad thing," Meredith insisted. "It's . . . Elena. She always had a way of pulling people into her orbit. Once you were hers, that was that. Even Caroline couldn't fully escape it, though she tried."
Another silence fell between them, this one more laden, and Damon was the one to break it. "You should get back to sleep. But put up the star any time." He stood and when Meredith started to protest, he kissed the top of her head. "Any time, Meredith. I mean it."
"Okay." Meredith rose slowly, stretching out her legs. The chill of night was starting to settle in, but she had one more favour to ask. "If you're still in town in the morning, maybe . . . a fly-along to school would be nice. But only if you don't mind."
Damon reached over and smoothed her hair down again. "What time do you want me here?"
Heat pricked at Meredith's cheeks. She hadn't expected him to agree so readily, at least not without some snide teasing about needing a chaperon. "Oh. Um, around eight, if that's not too early?"
"Eight it is." With a slight bow of his head, Damon returned to the shadowy cover of the trees and a moment later, a crow took to the sky, briefly silhouetted by the moon.
Sleep came amazingly quickly after his visit, and Meredith felt wholly refreshed, even though she and Damon really hadn't spoken much at all. After eating a quick breakfast and treating herself to a longer hot shower, she got dressed-taking care to make sure her curtains were fully closed-and headed out to face the day.
The crow on the porch, though, was still somewhat of a surprise. "You came," she said softly. The neighbourhood would be busy at this hour, full of people leaving their houses for work and school, so she couldn't speak as freely as she could at night.
Hopping up to the railing, the crow bobbed its head and cawed as if to say Of course. You doubted me?
For the first time in weeks, Meredith felt tears flood her eyes again. "Thank you." She quickly dried off her face and, after a moment's hesitation, gingerly patted the crow's head. "I mean it. Thank you." Then she set off, eschewing her car as she had been for the past few weeks. It was a bit of a walk to the school, but she used the time to build up her resolve, her reserves of strength. Even now, over a month after Elena's death, students and teachers alike were still giving her pitying looks.
The way to the school was lined with tall, healthy trees, and the crow flitted between them as Meredith walked, swooping lower when she was alone and taking refuge up high when someone else was near. At the edge of the school property, Meredith stepped behind a cluster of trees and glanced around. "Thank you, Damon."
Damon shifted forms easily, standing close to Meredith in the small space. "You're welcome." The next awkward pause was his, and too late Meredith remembered how he followed Elena in his avian form, shadowing her life. "If your parents aren't back tonight, perhaps we could talk again."
Meredith was careful not to wince. Her parents would be returning in the afternoon, but the thought of an evening holed up with them and their careful psychological observations made her want to scream. "They're coming back in today," she admitted, "but I can tell them I have a group project or something. I . . . don't feel up to dealing with them right now."
"If you're sure." Damon's gaze slid to the side.
"I am. I won't be able to get out of dinner," Meredith added, "but after seven-"
"Good. Seven it is, then." Without warning, Damon turned back into a crow and flew away.
Meredith's school day seemed to crawl by, and every time she saw movement outside a classroom window, she found herself wondering if it was a crow looking in. For the most part, she hoped not: Damon had healing of his own to do, and he couldn't do it if he was lingering in Elena's old hometown, around the periphery of her old life. But that didn't stop her from looking all the same.
#
Meredith wasn't a clock-watcher by nature, but her parents' attempts at casual glances were weighing heavily on her and seven o'clock-the time she had agreed to meet Damon-couldn't come soon enough. Eventually, she gave up pretending and rose from the table. "I have to go to the library," she announced. "We have a group project." School duties always ranked highly with her parents, so she doubted they would protest.
"Group projects this late in the term?" Her father snorted in disapproval. "Surely your teachers realize how much marks mean at this stage. You shouldn't have your grades in jeopardy because some of your classmates are slackers."
"I'm in a pretty decent group," Meredith fibbed smoothly, finishing her water and taking her plate and glass to the dishwasher. "I don't think that will be a problem." To be safe, she added, "I'm not sure how late I'll be. This is our first meeting, so we have a lot to cover."
Her mother rose from the table to kiss her cheek. "Of course. Call if you need anything. And be safe." Gabriella would never say Remember what happened to Elena, but Meredith almost wished she would so she could get it out of her system.
"I will. Don't wait up. We can catch up more tomorrow." Meredith headed for the stairs to grab her school bag. After putting in a few choice textbooks, some pens, and a binder full of paper, she went back downstairs. "We might not stay at the library," she added, seeding an alibi in case she needed one. "Depends on how busy it is. We might go to someone's house." She didn't ask to invite her fictional project group to the Sulez house. She had learned long ago that her parents didn't like strangers in the house; it had taken them weeks to even warm up to the idea of Elena and Bonnie over, and that was when the girls were all in elementary school.
Meredith's father nodded behind his newspaper from Spain. "I think you should take another martial art," he said in passing. "But we can talk about that tomorrow."
"All right. Good night." To be on the safe side, Meredith waited until she was out of the house and almost at the garage to roll her eyes. Her parents' stifling control had always bothered her to some degree, but she understood their reasoning for it; lately, though, it had been chafing more than ever. Harvard, she reminded herself. Once she heard back from her top university choices, she could start planning out her escape from Fell's Church.
Elena never got out. The thought stopped Meredith with her hand on the garage door. Not the way she wanted. She had thought about that right after the funeral as well, but it didn't depress her as much now. Now it was more a reminder, a call to arms. She couldn't, Meredith thought firmly, but I can, and I can do it in her honour.
"Meredith." Damon's voice was soft and low, and while it didn't surprise Meredith on its own, her reaction to it did. Once upon a time, she would have avoided Damon because he annoyed her-or, if she were truly honest, because he frightened her a bit. Now she welcomed his voice. In her topsy-turvy world, Damon's inscrutability was a comforting constant.
She managed a quick smile. "Hi. I told my parents I'm going to the library, so I need to take my car, but I can park it somewhere." She pushed the garage door open but hesitated before crossing the threshold. "Did you want to fly, or. . . ?" Meredith gestured vaguely at her car. It was no fancy Italian sports car, but it did the trick in Fell's Church.
Damon's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Probably best for your sterling reputation if I flew. Don't worry. I'll keep up." He stepped back into the shadows cast by the garage and transformed into a crow.
After Meredith backed out of the garage, she spotted the waiting crow and waved awkwardly before heading out. To add credence to her alibi, she headed to the library, parking at the far end of the lot and opening her window so Damon could perch on the door. "Any place in mind you would like to go?" After a moment's hesitation, she added, "I haven't been to Elena's grave in a while, but I don't know. . . ."
The crow bobbed its head in an emphatic nod and rose back into the sky, so Meredith took that as a yes. Damon had easier routes to the cemetery, but he gamely followed Meredith in her car. When she parked, he settled down by her trunk and changed forms again. "If you had wanted to come earlier," he said smoothly, as if their conversation hadn't been broken by distance and species, "you only had to ask."
Meredith shrugged awkwardly, double-checking that she had locked her car before stepping onto the trail. "I didn't know if you'd want to. I don't think Bonnie's ready for it, and I don't want to bother Matt. But I don't want to go by myself either. I don't tr-" She stopped herself quickly, focussing on her footsteps.
"Meredith." Damon stepped in front of her and grasped her shoulder. "Be honest. That's what I was going to talk to you about." Now he looked awkward, his dark gaze flicking over to the trees. "You need to be honest with yourself-and with me-if you want to move on."
"And you?" Meredith crossed her arms in front of her and tried to look stern, but she was sure she failed miserably. "Are you going to be honest?"
Damon held her gaze without flinching, without fear, and nodded. "Yes."
Something about the intensity of his gaze made Meredith shiver, and it was her turn to look away. "Okay then." She started walking towards Elena's grave as she tried to even out her breathing. Why did I suggest here? she cursed herself. The cemetery had seen so much of her weaknesses, her darknesses; it was as if she couldn't lie there.
Curling her arm around his elbow, Damon kept pace with her, glancing over on occasion. "Be honest," he repeated, "even when it hurts."
Meredith's lips twitched. "Hurts me or hurts you?" she countered.
"Either. Both." Damon allowed her another small silence before continuing. "You said you didn't want to come here by yourself. Why?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm here now, right?" Meredith focussed her gaze straight ahead. Why did I ever promise to be honest? That never ends well. She had learned that lesson with Elena years ago, though it hadn't stopped her from calling out Elena on her transgressions.
"Be honest." Now Damon's voice was a wicked little sing-song, and it was almost a relief to have him back to his normal form. That was the Damon she was used to dealing with, not this newer, deeper one.
What could it hurt? Meredith's mind rebelled. Elena had been the person in her life who understood her the most; she had been the most honest with Elena, even if that meant holding some things back and embellishing others. She didn't want to dump her darkness on Bonnie or Matt; they were struggling enough already. But Damon was different. He was older, stronger, more bitter; she didn't really care anymore if he thought she was some weak, silly little girl. Maybe in the wake of Elena's death, they could help build each other back up. If they went on their separate ways after that, well, that was life. Meredith had never expected to keep her high school friends forever; that was a rarity, something more likely to happen in movies than in real life. "I don't trust myself to be alone here," she blurted out. The weakness seemed to stab her from the inside out, and she placed her free hand on her belly as if covering a wound. "I mean, I wouldn't . . . I wouldn't . . . you know. I wouldn't do that to my parents or to . . . her. But I just don't think I can be here alone. Not yet, anyway."
Damon stayed silent until they reached Elena's grave. After bending to kiss the relatively new headstone, he sat down and motioned for Meredith to join him. The groundskeepers had kept the area so tidy it looked like a patch of someone's lawn-aside from the carved slab of stone, of course. "You loved her, didn't you?"
"Yes." Meredith didn't qualify her answer and Damon didn't ask her to; explanations wouldn't begin to touch the truth of it. She sat beside Damon, their knees touching, and put her hands in her lap to keep her fingers from tracing Elena's name in the stone. The dates on the stone seemed to defy mathematics, defy reason; Meredith felt so much older now, as if her bones were simply going to crumble into a heap any moment.
"You hated her too, I imagine." That earned Damon a sharp glare, but he didn't flinch. "Hate and love are too close not to touch. For someone to affect you that deeply, you had to let them get close in the first place."
Meredith shut her eyes for a moment, letting the gentle breeze coast over her cheeks. "Much like you loved and hated Stefan, I would say. Stefan was the nice one, the one who was loved and celebrated and respected. And Elena was vibrant one, the one who attracted friends and boyfriends and could make anyone do almost anything. She outshone me; Stefan overshadowed you." Then she let out a long breath and shrugged. "But hate? No. Elena was so many things I wasn't. Being her friend let me experience those things up close, if not first-hand. My life would have been so much duller without her."
"My life without Stefan would have been far more . . . erratic," Damon allowed, plucking a blade of grass and using it to trace the seams of his pants. "All swooping highs and abysmal lows, with precious little balance in between. Not horrible at first glance, but. . . ."
"You enliven Stefan's life. He balances yours." Meredith bumped shoulders with him. "Both are good, and necessary." She caught herself before she could let her head rest on Damon's shoulder. "Have you talked with Stefan recently?"
Damon nodded briefly. "He's retreated to Italy for the time being, but not Florence. Too many memories, even after our city has changed so much. He's in Venice right now. He says he finds the canals soothing."
Meredith wondered how much of that was Stefan still battling with his vampire nature. After all, if evil couldn't cross running water, almost every time he went out in Venice, his goodness was reaffirmed. Do canals count as running water? She didn't let herself dwell on the technicality. "And you? Where do you go when you aren't here or Italy?"
"France, often. I might try Spain next." Damon glanced over at her. "Have you ever been?"
Meredith shook her head. "No. Apparently there's some deep-seated animosity on Dad's side of the family, and he's thrown his allegiance in with the North American branch. It seems beautiful, though, from what I've seen."
"You should go. Isn't your spring break coming up soon?" Damon steeled his jaw, as if trying to keep further words in.
The temptation to say Be honest was almost unbearable, but Meredith restrained herself. "I've got too much school stuff to deal with. I want to go to university out of state, so I have to keep focussed. I suppose I could apply abroad, though. If I can get into Harvard," she mused, "Oxford might not be a stretch." Then she laughed. "But you didn't ask to talk so you could hear me natter about my post-secondary options. What did you want to talk about?"
"This." Damon dropped the blade of grass, slid his hand along her jaw, and moved up to kiss her.
Some distant part of Meredith's mind wailed about how wrong it was, kissing a man Elena had loved while sitting at her grave. The closer, louder parts marvelled at how soft his lips were, how gentle his hand was on her jaw, how he didn't taste of blood at all but rather something like sparkling water. She tried to twist around so she could lean into him, but the sound of car doors slamming startled them both back from each other. "I . . . I see."
Damon brushed a thumb across her lips before helping her stand. "We promised to be honest," he said simply, "and I wanted to kiss you. So."
"So." Meredith could hear people approaching, but she didn't want to move. Her chest was skimming Damon's and her heart was thundering and she felt more alive than she had in weeks. Is this what it felt like to be Elena? If it was, she didn't know how Elena managed; Meredith would have been overwhelmed in a matter of days. Keeping the world at a distance made it easier to deal with; Damon made the world small, pressed it into a kiss, and Meredith's skin was still tingling. "Um. When you say you wanted to kiss me. . . ." She trailed off. It would have been pure vanity to ask how long he had wanted to, how long he had thought about it.
Vanity, apparently, didn't dissuade him. Damon pulled her close enough that her hands curled around his sides and he lowered his mouth to hers again. "For a while," he murmured. "If we're being honest."
"We are." Meredith was prepared for the next kiss, or so she thought, but it still made her dizzy and warm, as if her heartbeat was pressing against every square inch of her skin.
"Good." Damon tightened an arm around her waist and pulled their entangled bodies into the shadow of a thick-trunked tree, away from the prying eyes of anyone who might be on the trail.
They kissed so long it made Meredith's jaw ache, but she didn't even consider stopping until the sweeping beam of a flashlight made the insides of her eyelids bloom with pulsing red blotches. "The guard," she managed, her lips and tongue forgetting they were also used to form words. "It's probably time to lock up the gate."
"Ah." Damon pulled back and Meredith was annoyingly pleased to find that he was quite rumpled himself. "Back to the car, then." Meredith's heartbeat must have sped up, because he glanced over at her with a knowing smile. "To get you home. The last thing you need is your parents looking for you and finding you looking all. . . ." As he paused, he tilted up Meredith's chin with a finger and brushed a kiss across her lips. "Undone."
"I'm not undone," Meredith insisted, giving him a half-hearted shove as they walked. "Flustered, maybe. And a bit . . . confused. But not undone."
"No? Pity." Once they reached Meredith's car, Damon waited to make sure she got inside safely. "I'll have to do better next time."
Next time. The words raced through Meredith's head like a forest fire, devouring any protest, any rationale, any doubt. "We'll see. Depends on when I put out the blue star, doesn't it?"
"Perhaps." Damon stepped into the gap between the open door and the car and leaned down. "Will you be fine getting home?"
Meredith nodded. "Yeah. Some time to think will be good." She tried to steady her hands against the steering wheel, but they were still tingling.
"Drive safe." Damon gave her a quick parting kiss. "I'll be watching for a star."
"Okay." Meredith waited until he transformed to drive away, but she quickly lost sight of the crow in the darkening sky. Then she did go to the library for real, even though it too was about to close. She needed to freshen up and make sure she didn't look as frazzled as she felt before facing her parents-and she wanted to get home before her better sense rewrote the memory of the kiss and tried to turn it into something twisted, tainted. So few good things had happened since Elena's death; she didn't want to lose sight of those that did.