i tried to take the road less traveled by but nothing seems to work the first few times

[unforgivably]

Who: Damon Salvatore, YOU?
Where: Around.
When: This Week.
What: With his daylight ring in possession, Damon gets a lay of the business he owns? With added context from home.
Warnings: Damon is a walking warning, but other than that, nothing other than the usual territory that comes with a Salvatore. *Season 7 spoilers, however, also counts as a warning within, they're may be closed logs underneath as well

S & D Automotive

[ Stefan told him about their business. He's yet to see it for himself. He dropped by mid-evening the week before, but this is the first day Monday he's stepped into work. Not to mention, the cars he and Stefan discovered, finally being able to be driven. He doesn't hate his car. He misses his old one. But, that one exploded driving into the Mystic Grill.

His fingers grip the steering wheel as that notion forms.

Something clicks into place mid-day Monday. It's as if Damon's flown blind for two weeks (figuratively speaking). The kernels of information he'd remembered had kept him alive and sated, but his suspicions hadn't wavered. Memories line themselves up like a movie playing in his mind. Elena had described to him once how it felt in transition, watching scenes play out before you, and Damon wonders if this isn't unlike that. Wayward Pines is no Mystic Falls (he's sure now it's bigger in infrastructure), so they don't play out in front of him, but they do play. At first, fragments slide into place. Elena. Soon, whole scenes rush at him, starting with what he remembered from before waking up in that hospital.

Elena's alive.

He keeps driving, slowly going in circles around town tossing aside familiar feelings and memories of the town he's currently stuck in, matching them up to what he remembers, to Katherine. To Bonnie. To those months he'd spent in 1994 now with context, and fuck if he doesn't hate Kai.

Everything circles back to Elena.

As for Damon, he circles back to the garage. He exits his car and hoofs it to the garage the Salvatore brothers own. You may catch him going through files, checking the computer, and digging around in back for parts if you drop by. Everything is too vivid, too specific. Stefan and him fix cars? No, this is someone's idea of a painted trick. He's done this before. Hell, he's pulled this before. Mostly out of a sense of compassion.

He takes a few minutes on a chair inspecting one of the cameras above his desk, but he doesn't rip it down. He just steps back down and smiles at it, giving a wave. He's got your number, Wayward Pines.

Or, so he thinks anyway.

If you haven't caught him combing through their records or inspecting cameras, you may have caught him with a legal pad in hand writing down facts. Specifically, his and Stefan's sordid history. That's right, he's even broken into his Wayward Pines bourbon stash, jotting down everything he thinks he can remember. This is what's real. Every time he reaches the bottom of the page, he flips it back, moving to the next.

Elena's alive seems to sustain him. ]

Comments

[paragon]

[ The invoice in Damon's records under one Steve Rogers is, specifically, for an '86 Harley-Davidson FXST 1340 Softail. Standard clutch issues and replacement tires, not an expensive fix, paid recently and in full.

Aside from a vague recollection of being thrown bodily from the seat, Steve doesn't remember it. There's a station wagon in the garage at the house, and the driver's seat had already been adjusted to fit him the first time he'd gotten behind the wheel. It's still parked there most days; he prefers to hoof it to the school in the mornings, not least because his car is such an eyesore. His and Natasha's; both their names had been on the pink slip when he'd dug into the glove compartment to check. He's been checking a lot of things. Some of it checks out; some of it doesn't. He's not sure he buys a lick of it when they're clearly already being lied to and watched.

(He hadn't wanted to go back to his classes — not even sure if 'back' was the right word for it. But he'd convinced Natasha not to cut into her own skin when he'd found scar tissue at the back of her thigh that matched his own, and she'd asked him to trust her in turn, to lie low when he'd wanted nothing more than to demand answers. He knows without asking that she also suspects they came here for a good reason, because they were needed. He's just as sure that she's better at this type of mission, if that's what it is, so he'd called the school the next day. Found lesson plans at the house, none of it in his own handwriting, all typed, but things he knows and could muddle through teaching. Turns out once he gets going he knows more than he thinks, and they're good kids.)

So, he's making his way to the shop now on his break, hoping to catch Bucky for lunch with no telltale engine to accompany his arrival. He doesn't know how much Bucky remembers; they don't talk about it, really, not even in hushed tones in the spaces they've determined to be safest. He finds he's able to guess well enough what Bucky's thinking anyway, something familiar about the broad strokes of memory contained in his expressions. Steve pushes through the door and lifts the back of his knuckles to the metal door frame, eyes going to the man hunched over a legal pad on the other side of the room. ]

Damon, is Bucky still around?

[ He pauses with his knuckles still pressed to the door frame; he hadn't known he knew the name, the man, until he'd said it. For someone with so few specific memories to his name he should find it reassuring, and yet. ]

[unforgivably]

[ For Damon, this is one of the first opportunities he's gotten to go out into the world. And sure enough, that's when everything cascades. It starts slow, with similar memories that remind him of others. When he tries, he can remember more. With pad in hand, he actively scribbles down things he remembers. He thinks he knows them. He does, but with these other memories (which, like Steve, some check out), it's impossible not to second guess anything.

Sad, really, that Damon doesn't know where Bucky is. Stefan's been able to mind their business - or, at least see the shop. Damon's priority isn't someone he doesn't know.

Scratch that, he does. Not only does Bucky figure prominently in his day to day business, but he recognizes Steve as well as he glances up and lets go of one of the pages, flipping the rest back. ]

Steve. [ Some days it's like that. It hits. He knows this must be what it's like to gain back memories from being compelled. ] I just got in for the day. [ For any day. ] I took some time off, with the accident. [ And not being able to walk in sunlight.

Which in doubt, offer his guests a drink. He briefly wonders if he's drinks much in this town. Or, drank. Or, maybe not even drank because he doesn't belong here. Every thought is at war with the one following it. ] Drink?

[paragon]

[ Steve nods at the negative, a contained but empathetic gesture. He knows he'd gone back earlier than most (there it is again, 'back'), and it hadn't been so he could pay off his mortgage. ]

Probably shouldn't. I still have classes later.

[ Which should answer that, except it makes a line of thought — pensive recollection — form between his brows. There's a lot more he understands in general now, though the specifics are slower to come. This isn't one of them, and what he remembers makes something drawn and weary settle in his expression. ] Doesn't do much for me anyway, [ he says, then huffs a laugh. ] So, sure. Why not. Looks like I missed Bucky anyway.

[unforgivably]

[ He starts pouring at 'Sure,' not looking back. It's point of no return. ]

Me. Neither. [ Steve gets a glass as his reward, Damon coming around the desk to clink Steve's with his. ] And how's Nat? [ The question tumbles out with ease, without knowing quite who this Nat person is, or If he knows them or of them. It's unsettling in a way that grates his nerves but he keeps it together. Rather than let it show on his features, he takes a sip before pointing with his glass, pointer finger extended. ] You teach. Art.

[paragon]

[ Steve takes the glass graciously, passing it under his nose before he sips, eyebrows lifting slightly in appreciation. Then he lowers the hand that's holding it, choosing to set the glass within reach on the desk rather than nurse it. ]

For a few days, at least. [ He doesn't like evasions and double meanings, but in its own way it's a direct answer. If they're not supposed to speak of the past, then he'll say what he knows to be true in the here and now and trust Damon to infer the rest.

He's also not expecting him to ask about Natasha, and it doesn't quite surprise him, either. He's grateful for the few extra seconds to think about his answer. ]

She's good. [ And it's not much of one, but there's only so much he's willing to say about it to a man she may have never actually met. Steve nods to the pad still resting on the desk. His eyesight's just fine; he could make out the words if he wanted to, but he won't. ] How's business? Bucky hasn't really said.

[unforgivably]

[ Damon isn't one to parse out ideas and separate thoughts. Usually, he strings them all together, but bits and pieces keep coming up, much to his chagrin. Lucky Steve can keep up. Steve confirms his occupation before moving on. It isn't often Damon is uncomfortable, and he masks that with a sip of his drink. As helpful as asking questions is, not knowing what the answers will be at all leaves him at quite the disadvantage. And screw that.

His lips come together in a steely smile not altogether caring about how Nat is (or who Nat is, he knows the name and that's about it), but there's also the undercurrent of fondness for a -- frequent customer? One time customer? He did only find the one invoice. ] That would be a question for my brother. He's - [ ... ] handled things in my absence. You've caught me on my first day back. [ Technically, his first day. As for the pad, his glass is set down smack dab in the middle of it, obscuring a few familiar names, but possibly drawing attention to the words 'fire' and 'tomb.' ] And your students? Are they happy to have their teacher back? Any shiny apples left on your desks? Abstract watercolors?

[paragon]

[ Well, if he can make out the words, he gives no indication. ]

Nah. Abstract watercolors are just homework. Your brother's— [ His eyebrows knit together briefly, then clear as minor revelation crosses his expression. ] Stefan. [ He tilts his head deliberately toward the door and the front of the store, as though to indicate the 'S' in the S & D. ] We met in the hospital.

[ And presumably before that, if Steve were comfortable presuming anything about this place. He wonders if referring to something that happened just a couple weeks ago counts as talking about the past, but in the philosophical and strategic way of a man who has no intention of abiding indefinitely. ]

[unforgivably]

Coincidence. So did we. [ Technically. ] Hard to get a hold of your emergency contact when he's also in the hospital. Not that anyone seemed concerned with finding mine.

[ This doesn't bother him now, it's just a factual statement from the day in question. But, it does lead to a comparison of notes. ]

Stefan works more on the cars, I cook the books. [ A furrow of his brow, that wording accompanying a playful smile, indicating a joke as his smile widens into a grin. ] I'm the numbers. He's the - well, for lack of a better term, the muscle. Stefan's handy.

[ As is Damon, but only occasionally for business, apparently. He assists but not consistently. ]

What was it like for you? Waking up in the hospital?

[paragon]

[ Now there's a real question, and Steve leans forward a little, elbows resting on his thighs even as he glances toward the ceiling and any fixtures there. ]

None the worse for wear.

[ Which is something not everyone can claim, something he's well aware of by now. His glance settles on Damon, more trusting than what he'd given to the cameras if a little more tentatively so. It feels unnatural to him, the hesitation, and he doesn't know if it comes from what memories he's managed to regain thus far or the part of him that seems to think he knows this man. ]

But I heal fast.

[unforgivably]

Something we have in common.

[ Maybe it's just something he says, something offhand, or it means more. ]

I'll tell Bucky you stopped by.

[ Because all of these chance meetings don't help him glean anything. ]

[paragon]

[ Certainly not if he cuts them short. Steve looks at him for a moment, then nods, standing. ]

Thanks for the drink, Damon.

[unforgivably]

[ Their time will come. Probably. But, he has a lot on his mind. ]

Any time. See you around, Steve.