After hundreds of years, words stop meaning anything. Even she knows that, and she's still a baby. The words 'I'm sorry' want to slip off the tip of her tongue, but they're useless. Nothing can take back what she's done. Throwing diamonds in his face in one thing, throwing back life, or whatever it is the undead have to look forward to, is another. He killed her, and then he saved her. Maybe she was supposed to do the same?
When she walks into the Grill, he is sitting there, like he was the other night. When things changed more then they did before. Caroline can't help but wonder if they're back at square one, or if they skipped ahead to far ahead, with the expensive jewelry and romantics drawings, that everything that is happening is fate's way of making up for ... everything. But, that doesn't matter now. She knows words are useless, at least to him, so even if all she has to offer is her epiphany, it doesn't mean a thing.
But, she has something better. Because, she's Caroline Forbes. The cheerleader with blond curls, shiny eyes and a bright smile, and the uncontrollable urge to do anything for anyone. Well, almost anyone. Forgetting she doesn't need it, she takes a deep breathe in and walks, one foot in front of the other, to him. He doesn't look at her, and it hurts. It makes her feel like the monster, that she did all the horrible things she said would never do, and it makes him look like a victim. Not the wrong-place-wrong-time-victim, but the it-wasn't-supposed-to-hurt-you kind. Not that it makes any sense. Slowly, she pulls out a rolled out piece of parchment from her bag, and places it beside his hand. Even then, he still doesn't look at her. And she's glad, because she's probably start rambling off meaningless things, which is exactly what she doesn't want to do. And, then she leaves. Before the small, small portion of will that's been left to manage the task of keeping her mouth shut, for once, decides to go on holiday.
When she walks home, actually walks for once, she wonders how long it will take him to unravel the parchment. How he will feel when his eyes slowly wander across the page, and take in what she has to offer. From the confident strokes that outline his face, and his body to the slightly hesitant scribbles that detail his mouth, eyes, hair, cheeks, hands, and dimples. Will he laugh? Maybe. She hopes not, because even she hasn't had the time to perfect such a skill, as he had, she still tried.
When she gets home, he's on her porch already. The parchment in his hands, slight bruised and wrinkled with the firm grip he's holding it in. But, he's looking at her, and Caroline forgets how to breathe. She forgets that she doesn't even need to breathe.
"I thought we agreed on no more romantic drawings."
"We said nothing about apologetic ones."
He killed her, once, and he gave her life back. Not what she had before, but opened up doors to new possibilities. She tried to kill him, again, maybe it's time for her to give that up, and save him. Maybe, he'll let her.