I Walk the Line
So, he almost gets sacrificed.
And if Christopher Forbes wanted to get technical, almost being sacrificed in order to turn some crazy power hungry bitch into a werewolf-vampire hybrid really wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to him. The worst had been Katherine Pierce shoving him down onto his hospital bed and suffocating him with a smelly pillow.
The awesome part about almost being sacrificed is the almost. It didn't happen, and though Elijah had betrayed them (big surprise) and had vanished in a whirl of creepy Original-ness with his extra creepy sister, Chris was surprisingly optimistic. Because, hey, he wasn't dead-dead. Just mostly dead. Exactly how he liked it.
"Another." He tells the bartender, motioning to his shot glass. He's poured another shot of tequila, and he turns in his seat, surveying the Grille. Everything is the same as it had always been, only not. Everything had changed in the last year. He downs the shot before he hops down, moving towards the pool tables. He picks up a pool stick, bends down to break the triangle in the middle. He's about to shoot when a voice from behind startles him.
"You look a lot better than the last time I saw you."
Chris whips around, and there she is.
Kaliope Mikaelson smiles at him, teeth sparkling. She looks like she belongs on the cover of a magazine. She is blonde and curvy and everything his dream girl had ever been. Too bad she's batshit freaking crazy.
"Yeah," he stammers, "I'm not like, facing an impending doom or anything today." Her head tilts, and he adds, "Yet." Because with Mystic Falls and the hybrid in front of him, you never know.
"Yet." She agrees. "I have a message for your friends, Christopher." And he's a little surprised that she knows his name. "You cannot beat me." She seems almost sympathetic when she says this, lips slightly pouted. "Elena will die. It's really nothing personal. I need my army, and she is the key. Tell them not to try anything. If Elena comes to me willingly, I will let her family and the rest of you live. I will leave this town and its inhabitants alone." She steps towards him, heels clicking on the hardwood floor, and he almost snaps the pool stick in half and stakes her with it (though he knows it won't do any good). She places her hand on his chest, right above his heart, "You're never going to get a better offer from me. I suggest you take it."
Chris licks his lips, staring down at her hand on his chest, "So, you're expecting me to turn over my best friend so you can make a bunch of those creepy hybrids and basically rule the world?"
Kaliope smiles, "That's the gist of it."
"Okay. Then my final answer is," he presses his face close to hers, smiling, "go to hell."
Kaliope tilts her head, an amused smile flickering across her face for a split second before she shoves him backwards, veins around her eyes bulging and pulsating. Chris stumbles, back against the wall. She's even more flawless like this. Totally hot. But totally evil, Chris! He reminds himself. "I can't believe I almost sacrificed you." She says. She glides her tongue over her fangs, studying him. "You're entirely too much fun."
"Uh, thanks." Chris manages, because this is so not what he was expecting.
"But make no mistake," she continues as if he hadn't spoken, "I will not hesitate to rip you limb from limb." Her hand flies up, grasping his throat and slamming him against the wall. He fights her grip, but knows his efforts are futile. She's too strong, too old. "I will dance on your grave, Christopher Forbes." She whispers in his ear, voice soft like silk and sweet like honey. "Do you understand me?"
Chris assumes that this is the part where he nods. So he does.
"Splendid!" Kaliope seems pleased. She removes her hand from his throat, and he rubs at the bruises that are already healing, "Now, run along to your friends. I'm sure they're off somewhere plotting my demise. Those idiots." She gives him an impish grin, like she would love to see them try. "Pass along my message, will you, darling? I have hybrids to make and bodies to drain. Your little doppelganger will not escape me again." And then she is gone, the only evidence that she had been there at all is the faint scent of blood and lavender perfume.
Chris sucks in a huge breath, head falling back against the wall.
Crazy hybrid girl ends up in his art class.
She sits right beside him, prim and proper, back straight in the seat.
"What are you doing here?" Chris hisses when class starts and the other students are buzzing around getting markers and paint supplies out.
She turns to him, pouting, "What? You're not happy to see me?" she questions. Chris gives her a pointed look, because evil, and she laughs, "I'm here to keep an eye on Elena. Since you denied my gracious offer I have to try a new approach."
"What? Stalking?" She makes his blood boil; with fear, with anger, something else.
"One must observe the prey and become the prey in order to capture the prey." Kaliope concedes. He opens his mouth to reply, but she holds up a hand, "I'm bored of this idle chitchat." She says before she stands. He's expecting her to snap somebodies neck (because that's what Crazy does when she's bored) but she surprises him when she walks across the class towards the art supplies closet. She comes back with stacks of sketch paper and granite pencils. She spends the next hour completely ignoring him, bent over her papers, pencil scratching away. Chris keeps expecting her to jump up and slaughter someone, but she sits there quietly, just drawing.
The bell rings too soon, because he's not done observing the way her blonde hair shines in the light (he really shouldn't be attracted to her but oops). She vanishes from the desk without a word, leaving her papers behind.
Chris picks up the first paper, and almost drops it when he realizes what's he's looking at. It's him; seated at the bar in the Grille, shot of tequila in his hand. He remembers that this was the day they had their first one on one interaction. The day she'd scared the crap out of him with her "I must kill Elena" talk.
She's an amazing artist. The lines and strokes are fine and practiced, the drawing is almost a perfect photograph. He looks around to make sure nobody is looking before he stuffs the drawing into his backpack. Truthfully, he's a little flattered that she'd spent a whole class period drawing him.
But also a little terrified.
Later that night, he pulls he drawing from his backpack. He studies it again for hours before he gently places it in the bottom drawer of his dresser. He hadn't told anybody about the drawing. He felt like it was a secret he should keep.
There was more to Kaliope Mikaelson than met the eye, he was sure of it.
She's his partner for their final in art.
He wants to scream. (He wants to skip around flinging daises.)
The form for their project is supposed to be each pair's interpretation of "Life".
He was sure Kaliope was going to turn their project into a bloody mess. Like she did with everything else. Like hell he's going to let that happen, though. This project is half of his final art grade!
Chris agrees to meet Kaliope at her house to work on the final, and when he shows up and she answers the door, he could swear she's happy to see him.
"Come in, Christopher!" Kaliope greets him, sweeping her hand out. He steps inside the giant front room, and she shuts the door behind them.
"I've set up the library with everything we need for our project. I can't wait to get started!" she grabs at his hand, and he's totally freaking out because this house is really nice and awesomely decorated. He was expecting animal heads on the walls and bloodstains, not flowery curtains and fine leather seats. Oh, and also, she's holding his hand.
Her fingers are long and delicate and locked around his wrist, but she's being gentle as she hauls him to what he's assuming is the library. Or, what he hopes is the library and not her torture chamber. Because hello, Original Hybrid.
But no, they stop in front of a set of double doors. Kaliope pushes the doors open, and the scent of crisp new books mixed with age old works of literary art assaults him. His mouth falls open in surprise and wonder. The walls are lined with never ending bookshelves. This is his closet book nerd dream. He could spend forever here.
In the center of the room, a long rectangular blank canvas rests. There are paint pots of all different shape and sizes littering the ground around it.
She turns to him, "I thought we could use color to describe our own lives, from start to present."
Chris, still in awe of the whole room, just nods. "Good idea, Kaliope."
So Kaliope's mom tries to kill her, and he thought he had a shitty life.
Chris' mom was totally cool with the vampire thing, finally, but he guesses the difference is that he's not a psycho hybrid hell-bent on overthrowing the government and declaring America the United States of Kaliope or something along those lines. He'd only ever killed one person, and he'd hated it. He still had nightmares about it. Kaliope was more unapologetically evil than he could ever be.
He feels bad. A mom was a mom, and a mom should always love and accept her children, no matter how evil they were.
So Chris tells her he's sorry, 'cause he is.
He finds her in the art classroom after the ball. She's seated at their usual table, doodling aimlessly. He sits beside her. Her eyes are unfocused, and he could swear he catches sight of some unshed tears before she snaps her head away from him.
"I'm sorry about your mom, Kaliope. That wasn't right of her. Mom's aren't supposed to be like that."
Kaliope snorts, "What? They're not supposed to be backstabbing liars?" She stabs her pencil through the stack of papers in front of her, "My mother destroyed me once by making me a vampire, and now she's tried to destroy me again. It will never end. I will never be able to stop running." She turns to him, "I will never be happy."
Chris would be lying if he said that her words didn't hurt him, didn't make him feel for her. Because they did. He felt for her deep in his heart.
"I'm sorry." He repeats, because he is, and he doesn't know what else to say.
"Don't act like you didn't know what was going to happen." She snaps, turning her eyes on him. The tears and sadness have gone, replaced by anger and betrayal.
"I-" he starts, but she cuts him off.
"If your friends make another attempt on my life, Christopher, I will not show mercy. I will destroy all of you as you have all tried to destroy me." She promises, "My kindness is for you and you alone. And even that…" she looks away, "can be exhausted."
Chris glares at her, any feeling he'd had for her out the window. "You will never change, will you?" he asks angrily. She flinches as he storms away.
Chris really isn't excited for prom. Not that any guy ever is. But he's especially down about it. This was supposed to be the greatest year of his life. But here he is, dead and eternally seventeen. He's pretty bitter about it.
The whole school is celebrating, hanging signs, talking about dresses and shoes and suits and limos. He's on his way to art class, trying to ignore the cheer and happiness, when a hand closes over his mouth and he's pulled into an empty classroom. He fights against the hand and he's finally released. He whips around, ready to throw somebody into a wall, only to find Kaliope giggling.
It's a really cute giggle, and he wants to stake himself for thinking so.
"No wonder you get kidnapped all the time," she covers her mouth with her hand, still giggling, "you're too easy to sneak up on."
Chris glares, "What do you want, Kaliope? Come to make some more threats?"
Kaliope advances towards him, heels clicking. "Be my date to prom." She says, not a question, but an order.
"Uh, why?" he questions, dumbfounded.
"Because I enjoy you. Because you're funny and strong and clever." She is directly in front of him now, and if she moved any closer, they could kiss. He finds himself wishing she would come closer. "Because I want to dance with you." She finishes in a whisper, eyes flicking to his lips.
"If I say no?" Chris asks, though he already knows he's a goner.
Kaliope tilts her head, "I wouldn't recommend it."
"Okay, then. I'll go with you." He concedes.
Her eyes widen. "You will?" and good lord, is that excitement he hears in her voice?
"Yes." Chris says, "I'll pick you up at eight." And he turns and hightails it out of the classroom as fast as he can. Before he does something he regrets. (Like kissing her, because he'd wanted to so badly.)
Chris pulls into the driveway to her ridiculously big house at eight o'clock sharp. He runs a hand through his hair, nervous. He can't believe he's doing this. He hadn't told his friends, and they're going to freak out when he shows up to the dance with Kaliope.
But there's no turning back now.
He gets out of the car and walks up the pathway towards the front door. He rings the bell, and hears footsteps a moment later. The door opens and the most beautiful thing he's ever seen is standing behind it. Her dress is long and black, a slit going up her thigh. Her hair is wild and curly. She is stunning. His eyes roam over her, and she bites her lip.
"Hey," he says lamely, still mesmerized.
"Do I look okay?" she questions, and he finds that she seems a little nervous as she smooths a hand down her stomach. The Original hybrid, nervous. He almost snorts at the absurdity.
"You look…" Chris shakes his head, at a loss for words, "wonderful." He finally finishes.
The smile that breaks across her face is breathtaking, and he crooks his arm towards her, "Shall we?" He doesn't know what's in store for them, or why she'd asked him to the dance, or why she was so enamored with him, but he does know that when she's with him, she's not out killing people. He'll take that any day. And he would be lying to himself if he said she wasn't pleasurable company.
Kaliope takes his arm, and he leads her to the car.
Elena and her Salvatore's are glaring at them from across the room. He tries not to look at them, but he can feel their heated and confused stares. Kaliope is smiling, drinking the punch and mingling. It's so weird, to see this Original hybrid acting like an eighteen year old prom queen.
The upbeat music changes to a slow song, and a hand grasps his and pulls him into the coupled crowd. "Dance with me." Kaliope breathes in his ear. He puts one hand on her slim waist, the other grabbing her hand. They sway and spin, and her eyes never stray from his.
"Why do you want Elena so bad?" he asks, curious.
"I want the power. I want the hybrids." She answers immediately.
"What are you going to do when you get it?"
Kaliope forces them to stop swaying, and they stand stock still in the middle of the moving crowd, "I…I don't know." She answers honestly.
"I won't let you hurt her. She's my best friend." Chris says.
Kaliope laughs, "Do you really think you can stop me?"
"I think you like me, Kaliope." He says instead of answering her question. Because no, he doesn't think he can stop her.
Kaliope moves her face close to his, "My slight affection for you will not deter me from my agenda. Make no mistake, if you stand in my way-"
"I know, I know. You'll rip me limb from limb and dance on my grave." Chris interrupts.
She laughs, puts her arms around his neck, "Dance with me, Mr. Forbes."
And he does.
It's a week after the dance that they meet up again to work on their art final.
Chris has been done with his half of the canvas for some time, but Kaliope had been struggling with hers. She wanted it to be perfect, she'd said countless times. After weeks of begging, she'd finally agreed to let him see what'd she'd gotten done so far.
He walks into the big mansion without knocking, heading towards the library. He passes Rebekah who gives him a lazy wave, and Elijah who nods. They've all become quite used to his presence.
Kaliope is already in the library when he pushes the doors open. "Hey," he greets, noticing that their canvas is covered by a huge white sheet. She must be nervous about him seeing it.
"Hello, Christopher," and he shivers like he always does when she says his name. The fact that he has then hots for her has got to be totally obvious by now.
She's seated on small wooden chair in front of the covered canvas, chewing on her fingernails. Oh yes, she's definitely nervous. "I'm not going to judge whatever is on that canvas, Kaliope. I promise." He puts a hand on her shoulder, hoping to be reassuring.
It must work, because she sighs before she reaches out and grasps the cover, ripping it off.
He is instantly in awe.
In the top corner of the canvas, bright pink is the first color, signifying the beginning of her life. The pink meets a light yellow and a baby blue. Happiness is the feeling he gets from these colors. The baby blue then meets dark green, and he can suddenly feel the absence of the happy light colors. The dark green fades to black and the black fades into a deep blood red. He reaches out, touching the red. "What is this? The green and the black and the red."
"I was happy, once. I had a family, once. And then I lost Henrik, the light of my life. My little brother. So I chose green. Then, I died, so I chose black. And I was reborn, and I was thirsty, so I chose red."
After the red, is a light color. A light purple. The purple turns into blue, and the blue into yellow, and the yellow into pink.
"And the light colors?" he asks.
Kaliope looks at him, "The light is you, Christopher." She says, voice soft.
Chris doesn't know what to say to that, so he chooses the next best thing, "It's beautiful, Kaliope. We're totally going to get an A."
Her answering smile is enough to make the blues and yellows and pinks in his heart explode.
Kaliope's right. He does get kidnapped a lot.
The vampire hunter laughs in his face before he dumps vervain water all over him. He's tied to a chair, hands and feet bound, in some musty old cellar. The vervain burns, and he tries not to scream, but he can't help it. He screams and screams, begging the hunter to stop. He's already been staked and shot and had his neck snapped.
And then, ears burning from the vervain but still useful, he can hear the familiar clicking of heels. The steel door flies off of its hinges, and Kaliope stands before them.
The hunter scrambles for his stakes and gun, though they'll do no good. She flashes towards him, throwing her hand into his chest, "Never touch what's mine." She hisses, before wrenching his heart out of his body. She flings the heart away, blood on her hands.
She comes towards him, ripping the chains from his body, hands, and feet. He's gasping, and his head lolls forward. Her fingers are under his chin, and she tilts his face up. She strokes a finger down his cheek, "I will take care of you, Christopher." She promises. She lifts her wrist to her lips, tearing into her skin. The sweet scent of her blood invades his nose, and his fangs slip from his gums. She offers him her wrist, and his weary eyes meet hers. She nods, and he attacks her wrist.
She tastes better than she smells.
Hours later, when he's in his own bed and fully healed, he opens his phone and texts her number.
Thank you.
His phone buzzes not a moment later.
I will always come for you.
"I know there's something good in you, Kaliope. I know there is. I've seen it."
She's standing in front of the fireplace, long blonde hair pulled into a bun. Her back is stiff, and Chris thinks she's going to deny it, but instead she murmurs, "You're right. There is something good in me. You, Christopher. You are in me. In my blood. In what's left of my cold, black heart." She turns to him, and he is surprised to see tears in her usually cold eyes, "You are the good in me." She says softly.
Chris swallows, "Kaliope," he begins but she holds up a hand.
"No. Let me finish. I would have rained blood and terror on this town, and I still would, if it weren't for you." Her blue eyes, so stunning in the firelight, meet his. "It's you, Christopher. You, you, you. Isn't that funny?" she laughs then, shaking her head. She brushes a strand of loose blonde hair behind her ear. "I found you, when I never thought that I would find somebody again."
She's telling him everything he's ever wanted to hear, and his undead heart would sing if it could. But it's so wrong, so wrong that his heart would beat for this monster. This wicked, murdering, beautiful, intelligent, witty, wonderful monster.
Chris steps towards her, "I hated you when I met you." He tells her honestly, and it hurts him when she flinches. "But slowly, I saw you. Not Kaliope Mikaelson; serial killer, hybrid, monster. I saw Kaliope Mikaelson; artist, powerful, clever. You are an artist, and you are your greatest work of art." She sucks in a breath, and a single tear glides down her cheek. Quickly, he reaches out, catching the tear. "I'm not fighting it any longer."
Before he can get another word out, she advances on him, grasping his face in her hands and bringing their lips together. She kisses him like he's air and she can't breathe. He grasps her hips, yanking her against him. Her hands are in his hair, on his face, under his shirt. He's never felt this before, this burning need to be close to someone. She does this to him. He burns for her. He tears his lips from hers, presses his own to her neck. Her head falls backwards as his tongue and lips glide down her throat. He needs her. He needs her more than he's ever needed anybody.
His friends are going to kill him. They're going to hate him and they're going to hate her even more. But that doesn't stop him. It doesn't stop him from lifting her in his arms. It doesn't stop him from carrying her up the stairs to her room, her legs around his waist. It doesn't stop him from whispering, "You, you, you." against her skin as he pulls her clothes off.
The morning after, he finds Kaliope curled beside him, and his eyes trace over the lines of their art project (they'd gotten an A) hanging on the wall.
Maybe this wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to him, after all.