“You said you knew the perfect place to run to. A place that was empty of people, and buildings, and far, far away. A place covered in blood-red earth and sleeping life. A place longing to come alive again. It's a place for disappearing, you'd said, a place for getting lost... and for getting found.
I'll take you there, you'd said.
And I could say that I agreed.”
“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing. Like being brought back from the dead is the worst thing that could happen to you. Let me guess, you’re going to give me the crappy speech about how you were in heaven and how you were happy.”He didn’t want to hear it, he didn’t want to know about her happiness if he couldn’t be happy himself. It was selfish of him, but then again, he was a very selfish man.
Damon had watched her die in his arms, he had mourned her quietly without anyone knowing about it. And now she was alive. It was almost like it was for nothing. If only he would have known he would be seeing her again and very soon. Rose kept him sane, she kept him balanced and secure. He had needed her moments ago when he’d ran away from Elena. “Go figure,” he mumbled, being rather cruel about the matter. He didn’t want to be mean to her, he was just so angry with himself.
”Lucky me.“ Nothing was more dangerous than to make superficial judgments about others, especially when it came from the mouth of someone that hadn’t had the experience. Unbeknownst to Damon, it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to go through, something plagued with uncertainty and only answered with assumptions. Over fine-hundred years of simply existing and a tale of resurrecting a vampire hadn’t been told — not even at the mouth of an Original.
"I’m not going to give you a crappy speech, Damon. You know that.” It took every ounce of her control not to smash the glass effortlessly into shatters although her voice remained placid. Death had been used for reflection: reflection that her best friend had been killed before her own eyes, that Damon’s paradise was the closest to home she had been in a long time, and she truly missed it. For Damon to say it was all for nothing was absurd. Friends? The terrible itching vacancy of friendship had been allocated to no other than the broody man sitting before her. “Look, I came here to thank you. You didn’t have to look after me —and god knows why you did— but words can’t express my gratitude.”
Paradise. The only time he could really remember their relationship being paradise was over the summer; even then, he was still proving to be the monster he had always been. “No more,” he confirmed, staring down at the floor, finding something inside of him to keep him going. To keep him breathing. He’d just loved the woman he’d fought so hard for, the woman he’d assumed he’d loved more than anyone and anything. “Who cares? It happened, it’s over. It’s better this way anyway,” he mumbled, lying to himself. From now on, he would have to speak one lie after another. Damon Salvatore refused to crack around people, allow people to see how weak he truly was. “I’d rather talk about the fact you’re actually here,” for the first time since she’d been back, he sounded relieved - almost happy.
“Fine. What’s there to talk about?” A curious tone inquired with an arch of a brow, “It was probably at the hand of a Mikaelson since they have plenty of witches at their disposal. That’s the only plausible reason. They seek revenge.” Rose knew this day would come. Eluding them for over five-hundred years came with a price. She doubted if killing Trevor was satisfying enough for them seeing as such a powerful family didn’t do things by halves. Normally she’d fear such thoughts, but what was there to lose? She wasn’t afraid of death anymore. She’d leave behind no family. No one would mourn her second departure. Damon. Damon was the closest person she dared call a friend and the sole reason she hadn’t already acted on previous thoughts — no humanity. “I’m apologize,” a shamefully glimmer in her eyes as they fluttered shut, “I still don’t know how to feel about being back.”
A small chuckle escaped his lips without him even wanting it to. It was strange how she could immediately lift his spirit. He stared down at his lap before peering up at her, watching as she sat across from him. “What can I say? I remain to be creative up until this day,” he rested his arm on the armrest and kept his eyes on the brunette. If she was a ghost, she would disappear soon enough. Ghosts always disappeared, so did people. It seemed that these days, Damon was losing almost everybody. He knew he should spend time with Rose as much as he could, but he couldn’t force what had happened with Elena out of his mind. Damon stared back down at his lap when she attempted to crack a joke, one that really hit him hard. They were memories he didn’t want to have to relive. “Lets not talk about that yet, okay?”
Rose’s features immersed with a hint of sorrow as she looked down to glare at the liquid swirling in her glass. “No more love in paradise?” A curious tone inquired whilst choosing to ignore his later statement. After the loss of Slater and Trevor she had discovered the secrets of true immortality — not to let yourself care. One death had taught not to act upon infatuation and the other warned her that even offering a helping hand was dangerous. There was no sugar coating that she was alone. Despite her hatred for Elena’s older counterpart, she was rooting for Elena and Damon even in death. “I can see it’s eating you up. You know, you’re not so subtle when it comes to emotions.” It was obvious, or maybe that’s because their facades often cracked when around one another. Both troubles souls found an ounce of solace within the other, “but if you insist we won’t speak of such things.”
Damon would pinch himself if it meant he didn’t look stupid whilst doing it. It had to be a dream; he must have fallen asleep after leaving Elena behind. Or he was drunk, so drunk that he was beginning to see things. Damon watched as she poured herself a drink, she was lucky it was her because he didn’t allow anyone near his favourite stash of liquor. He reached out to pour himself another one; if he was drunk and hallucinating, then one more wouldn’t hurt. Damon knocked back the liquid in the glass and traced his tongue across his lips.
“Do what you want, Casper. Just don’t bother lecturing me on what I did to Elena.”
Rose couldn’t help the small smile that curved her lips before taking another sip, “Casper? I see your little nicknames haven’t gone out of fashion. I’ll stay for a little bit. You never know, you might need someone to protect you from a pissed off wolf again.” She tried to inject some humor into a situation that was definitely grave, yet there was no denying her miserable undertone that no amount of pretending could sooth. Right now, there was little hope for her; little hope that she’d actually enjoy living as something she despised—vampire. “What did you do to Elena?” Rose inquired, slinging back the rest of her drink before pouring another. Although she didn’t dare say, most of her day had been spent freaking out and attempting to scrub away to sickening smell of damp dirt.
It was all too much to handle. Damon had just let Elena go, and now Rose was crawling back into his life again. He didn’t know whether to be joyous or sad. He was feeling too many emotions at once. All he wanted to do was feed on someone and feel the warm, soothing liquid inside a human body ooze down his throat. “But why?” It wasn’t the exact question he wanted to ask, he had a thousand more questions that he needed to ask her. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his skin and taking deep, shaky breaths.
“I haven’t a clue,” Rose managed to confess with a tone fraught with emotion. It was impossible —regardless of mortality— for someone to fully comprehend what was happening: the uncertainty, the burning questions that hummed an all too haunting song, and the feelings flooding back in unison. A slender hand helped herself to a drink. Hell, she’d opt for anything that would might quell such thoughts, even turning off that dreaded switch seemed like a good idea. To simply not care about a thing was a far too tempting thought not to contemplate.
"I didn’t have anywhere else to go, but if you want me out your way I’ll be gone.“
Rose had died, he’d held her when she’d passed into the light. This was all too much for him; maybe she was here to lecture him about breaking up with Elena. It had only been ten minutes since he’d broken her heart. He stared at the bourbon in his hand and back to her. Maybe someone had slipped something into his drink, maybe he was being experimented on and had hallucinated all of this. “You’re not real,” he confirmed with a sip of his drink.
An inhalation, a once blank slate soon painted with bewilderment before gaze tilted downwards. “Believe you me, I’m just as surprised.” Delighted to be back? Only for Damon’s sake. Being able to talk without going through the middle man was a perk, something that seemed to counterbalance a series of worries; the reasoning and cause behind her resurrection. “Look,” she paused, taking a shaky exhale before proceeding, “you could always go to my grave if you’re that persistent.” Needless to say, he’d only find an upturned area of dirt with no corpse.
Cue a dramatic roll of verdant eyes as the rather focused face Rose had been attempting softened into a smile. Let’s just say re-introductions or anything involving those pesky feelings weren’t exactly strong suits of hers. Then again, what was? Eluding the Mikaelson family for over 500 years was quite an achievement.
