"I will not have my hand forced by you or anyone else!" Klaus' voice boomed over her own, and despite her sliver of fear, Hayley stood her ground, defiant. She was trying to tell him how to handle Marcel, how to get back Elijah from his down right evil protegé when Klaus had enough. They were in the living room of the old governor's house, and it was nearly reaching midnight. Thank god for being out in the middle of nowhere, otherwise cops would have been called three hours ago.
"What is wrong with you?!" She stood tall against him. "I'm reaching out to you despite everything you have done and you still can't get out of your ways!" She yelled, nearly nose to nose with the hybrid. "GOD, I feel sorry for you!"
She turned around, her back facing him. A split moment and he was in front of her again.
"Don't turn your back on me!"
Anger rose within her. "I should have turned my back on you ages ago!"
People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. Hayley had not only smacked him awake, but dumped a whole bucket of ice water on him. Every nerve went white hot. The worst type of crying wasn't the kind everyone could see-the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. A section withered and became a scar on the part of your soul that survived. For people like him, his soul contained more scar tissue than life.
He had scars. She had known that. He had mental, physical and emotional scars. He was a walking freak show of sorts, but she didn't seem to care. With each day he felt the barriers melting. He let them melt. Because of her genuine laugh, because he knew that she would win. Too much was between them, pulling them together at the same time as it pushed them apart. Their need for each other would always be in constant battle with the need to keep the other safe. Love wasn't forged by circumstance or changed by sorrow. It simply was. Fierce and free as the darkness within him. Not everyone in the world is alike. And some of us are a lot more different than others. Some of us were born like this, some of us were changed. It was chosen for you. The truth is that your whole life can change with one split-second decision, and it doesn't matter if you told yourself you'd never do it or if you stepped into the moment with no intention of doing it. All it takes is for that one second of absolute panic when the solution shines right there in front of you, and you grab it... only to have it turn into ash in your hand.
Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you.
This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about. Klaus was a survivor. It was in his blood, his veins. And nothing was going to change that.
She snapped him out of his daze, his hands reaching out, gripping her waist with enough strength to still her, spinning her around until he she was facing him again. "I'm sorry." It was hard to know what was worse: him being with her, or him being without her. So much had changed, so much so that he found himself feeling guilty for yelling at her afterwards. Inside us all are pieces of that which makes the negative. Demons are neither good nor bad. Like most people, they have many faces. It is that inner essence, or drive, if you will, that we all have that guides us through our lives. Sometimes those voices that drive us are whispered memories that live deep inside and cause us such pain that we have no choice except to let it out and to hurt those around us. But at other times, the voice is love and compassion, and it guides us to a gentler place. In the end, we, alone, must choose what path to walk. No one can help us with it. And Klaus had gone down that path and fell right into the ditch. But he knew he wouldn't be able to live in the darkness for long. It would be damn near impossible, not with Hayley near him.
His mind could be very disturbing at times. There's nothing more annoying than cold logic and reason when you've got a good fit going. He wanted to do things to her that a good girl definitely shouldn't let a man do to her. And if his body was as crooked as his thoughts, she wouldn't walk for a week. Which would give him a perfect excuse to just lay in bed with her, all day. It was a fantasy he found himself in most days anymore. If he wasn't plotting to take down Marcel, he was silently watching Hayley sleep. Carrying an unborn super hybrid baby must take it's toll on her body. Love, he thought as he held her to his heart, was an agony beyond compare. He was putting himself through unnecessary torment and torture. And Klaus was letting himself be put through the torture.
Contact hurt, might even be fatal if it wasn't tended to., and yet he couldn't stop himself. Obsession or compulsion, he didn't know, but he did know that before this was over, she'd either end up in his bed . . . or one of them would bleed darkest red. He hoped for the bed part. She made him think bad thoughts simply by breathing. Releasing one hand from her waist and taking her chin in his hand, Klaus gazed down at the woman that was carrying his child. "I value your opinion, sweetheart, really I do. But this is vampire business." If only he could wipe himself from her mind, get him out of her system and stop the fantasies plaguing her. If only to prove to herself that being with him would not be pleasurable for her. Truthfully, he could, being a hybrid and all, but could he really do that to her? Absolutely not. It was sweet torture and yet a curse at the same time.
"I just ... I just don't want to see you get hurt." Big green hues stared up at him.
Now that touched him in a deep place of his frozen heart. "I'm an Original, I can't be killed, love." He gave her a slight lift of the corner of his mouth in the form of a smirk and then his expression dropped. "I need you to stay here, you need to be safe. I need you to be safe." He murmured, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "I know I'm not easy to understand. I'm probably the most complicated puzzle you could find, but-"
"That's the understatement of the century." Hayley interjected.
"Let me finish." Klaus argued, giving her a pointed stare. "I feel more like myself, the person I used to be, when I'm around you. That is all I need: to remember who I was." Sometimes he wanted to believe something so badly, that he deliberately manufactured excuses and ignored painful reality. But this was one reality he couldn't escape.
Hierarchy was like breathing: the only time you thought about it was when something went wrong. And something did go wrong. Something always went wrong when it came to the french quarter. It was a never ending, very vicious cycle of torment and torture. Keep trying until you have no more chances left. And even then keep going. It was something her father always told her, always implanted into her brain.. until the day he kicked her out. But did that apply to Klaus, too? You can never have the same thing twice, and it's hopeless to try. It never works like that, and all you end up doing is breaking your heart against a solid rock. That's why when you lose things you have to let them go instead of trying to get them back again. You can't do it, and you only hurt yourself worse if you try. Maybe this was the universe's way of saying to let it go? They had been arguing back and forth for weeks now. Maybe this was the universe's way of saying she should pack a bag and leave.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: What do you think? Should I make this into something more? Comments & Reviews are extra welcome. :)