Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or its characters. If I did, The Originals would never have happened, Kol would be alive and happily causing mayhem somewhere, and Klaus and Caroline would be travelling the world and sexing it up.
Don't own the characters associated with MCU, although they're a constant source of distress.
The woods are lovely dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
New York City, 2015
Click, click. Click, click.
Caroline tries not to flinch against the onslaught of photographers, each of them documenting every moment of this press conference, every minute expression on her face so they can pick it apart later, dissect her emotions and how she's feeling. They don't need to know that it reminds her of gunshots, bullets singing through the air, finding their mark with a relentless and unerring accuracy.
She blinks away the chaos, breathes in and out deeply, trying to root herself in the present. The red haze around her vision fades away bit by bit, colour bleeding back into her world.
"Ms Forbes! How does it feel being out of the ice, waking up to a world that's completely different to your own?" One of the more assertive reporters calls out over the din. The room falls silent like the flip of a switch, leaning forward with bated breath, and pens poised over notepads, strange devices held aloft in her direction.
Caroline clears her throat before leaning towards the microphone.
"It's different." She allows with a wan smile. That's all that they're going to get. They don't need to know about the horror that she felt when she realised what year it was- that all of her friends and family were probably dead and gone, six feet under and bones turned to dust. A memory, lost beneath the relentless march of history, names that no one would ever bother to remember.
They don't need to know that she wakes up screaming every night, body drenched in sweat, hair matted to her forehead and neck as she accepts with a sort of cold finality that she's alone, destined to live out the rest of her life in a time and a city that has changed beyond her recognition.
They don't have to know about Nik. Caroline squeezes her eyes shut against an onslaught of more clicking and more flashes, stomach twisting at the thought of her lover, her last memory of him falling, falling, falling, and for all of her super enhanced strength and agility powerless to do anything to save him.
She should have flung herself into that abyss after him. Sleeping in the snow, the white drift covering her softly, masking the blood and her battered body would have been far better. At least they would have been curled around each other in the same grave, not torn apart by the decades and the unrelenting march of time.
The mood in the room shifts, some of the reporters perhaps realising that they've touched on a nerve. Some of them are staring at her curiously, wondering how far they can push before she snaps; showing off that inhuman strength that they're not sure really exists, but surely must be sitting there, just below the skin.
To them, Captain America is a myth. Once a rallying point for the United States Armed Forces during WWII, now a girl out of time. In a time where propaganda was a battle that was just as desperately fought between the two sides, she had been a shining example of what exactly to do.
She's the history book come to life, the character from the pages of a well worn textbook. Somehow, she, Caroline Forbes, doubts that she's living up to their expectations of her.
"What's your favourite thing about the 21st century?" Another reporter, a younger girl asks her a little sympathetically as if she gets that this is the last place on Earth right now that Caroline possibly wants to be.
She has to rack her brain for the answer to that particular question, because so many things are foreign and unfamiliar to her.
"Microwaves." Caroline replies with a quick smile. "It always used to take forever to heat food back in the 1930's."
There are a few titters that echo around the room before an awkward silence settles around the space once more. Another reporter raises his hand.
"You've spoken extensively about your experiences since coming out of the ice. But what about the circumstances that led to it?"
Caroline leans forward, fingers tapping against the table beneath her.
"You know the story." She replies, the slightest edge biting into her tone as she meets the eyes of the reporter evenly.
The reporter looks nervous, eyes flickering towards the notepad in his lap before back to her. It looks as if there's some sort of internal debate raging, deciding whether he has enough balls to actually ask the question that's on the tip of his tongue.
"Yes well um…" He swallows audibly before seeming to find his composure once more. "Can you confirm if putting the plane into the ice was a suicide attempt? Brought about by the loss of your friend Sergeant Niklaus Mikaelson?"
Her fingers bite into the wood of the table, the delicate wood splintering and crushing beneath her grip as her teeth grind together.
"This press conference is over." Caroline manages to bite out as she stands, finally taking a step away from the table.
"You just had to ask the suicide question didn't you Thompson?" A voice echoes from the back of the room. As one, the reporters swivel, cameras pointed away from her and towards the raven haired man with the bright blue eyes.
He's wearing what looks to be an expensive suit, if the cut and cloth were anything to go by. Caroline watches as he manages to part the crowd with nothing more than a charming smile and a well placed elbow. It's not until he draws closer that Caroline realises just who the man is. Damon Salvatore was a hard man to ignore.
"Captain Forbes." Damon gives her a sharp salute, eyes brimming with mirth as he gives her a languid onceover. It's surprisingly not disrespectful; although rumour would have it he's in a fairly committed relationship of his own. "It's an honour to meet you. I've heard a lot about you from my grandmother bless her soul."
"Lyanna Salvatore's grandson." Caroline replies faintly, giving him a quick glance. It's eerie, the resemblance that Damon has to his grandmother, right down to the way his dark hair curls at his temples and his chin juts out defiantly.
She'd known Lyanna during the war, the other woman friends with her mother. She'd been a scientist in a time where women weren't expected to have jobs, and she'd also been one of her biggest advocates when they were deciding what to do with her after she'd been injected with the serum.
Her father had wanted to ship her as far away from New York as possible, somewhere down South. It had been Lyanna who had fought so hard to have her sent to Europe, especially after she'd found out the depths of her feelings for Nik, the need to see him again and make sure that he's okay. She'd been concerned when his frequent letters had slowed.
"The very same. You'll have to forgive the vultures; they have a tendency to overstep their bounds. They don't mean anything by it."
The attention is off her now, something that she welcomes as the reporters turn as one towards Damon.
"We all know the story, but let me refresh the memories of those that obviously didn't do their research before coming here today." Damon remarks pointedly, shooting daggers at the errant reporter, who sinks down into his chair slowly.
"There was evidence to suggest that there was nuclear weaponry, technology far beyond our reach during that period of time. The Red Skull was going to fly the plane towards America and release his payload upon every major city on the continent, New York included. Captain America here- we really need to think up a new name for you sweetheart, decided that putting the plane down in the ice was the only viable option to save the lives of millions. You should be grateful."
There's a pregnant pause as the occupants of the room glance at each other, whispering behind their hands as they sneak glances at Damon Salvatore.
"And instead you sit here and ask her mundane questions about what her favourite part of the 21st century is? Christ you people have no idea how to do your jobs."
Caroline doesn't bother to listen to the response of the journalists, because she's taken advantage of the momentary distraction to slip quietly out the side door and into the marbled foyer of the building beyond.
She figures she'll have at least a five minute head start before anyone realises that she's missing, especially if Damon Salvatore had anything to do with it. Her handler will probably have a mini heart attack once they find out she's gone missing, but they'll just have to deal with it.
Caroline sucks in the cold air of New York City before she begins to run.
She's just not quite sure what she's running from.
New York City, September 1939
Winter is starting to give way to spring when she meets Niklaus Mikaelson for the first time. He and his family had moved into her neighbourhood after emigrating from Britain the previous year, and his German sounding name had not done him any favours with the boys in the neighbourhood.
Europe was at war, and she wasn't stupid enough to think that America wouldn't get involved eventually. The entire country was teetering on the edge of a knife, just waiting for something to happen.
Although he was not an only child, Niklaus especially made no effort to make friends at the school that they all attended, preferring to steer well clear of everyone until the final bell rang and they were released.
It was difficult for her, seeing the fresh set of bruises that bloomed on his jaw line or under his eye. Despite his obvious discomfort with the continued beatings he was no doubt experiencing, he never made any move to fight back or dob in anyone.
She's not sure why. He's tall and broad shouldered, and even her sixteen year old self can recognise that even at two years her senior he's very handsome. He's strong enough to fight back against all of them, could cause some serious damage if he tried.
One day when she's walking home, he comes stumbling out of an alleyway, hand pressed against his side, blood pouring from a cut over his eyebrow. He almost barrels into her, and she has to side step him quickly to avoid being bowled over. A quick glance down the dim alleyway shows three boys laughing at his retreating form, one cupping his hands around his mouth to yell the insult at him.
"Dirty Kraut! Go back to where you came from!"
Niklaus either doesn't hear or doesn't care, spitting blood out onto the road before sucking air into his lungs. She hovers, unsure if she should pretend like nothing has happened and continue on as normal, or if she should remain and offer him her assistance. She's never really had the chance to interact with him one on one before.
"If you're just going to stand there, you may as well give me a hand." He interrupts her train of thought, clipped tone betraying just the slightest hint of a German accent.
She hesitates, because her dad works with the government, and he's always told her about the danger of befriending Germans. You never knew when they might turn around and stab you in the back. Or so he said.
Her need to do something wins out over the lessons so carefully taught by her parents and she hurries forward, gripping his elbow and guiding him to sit on the sidewalk.
"Are you alright?" She asks, hands hovering uncertainly as she stands helplessly beside him.
The three boys have made themselves scarce, and she can hear their laughter echoing down the street.
"What do you think?" Niklaus replies a little sardonically as he lifts his shirt to inspect the damage to his side. She can already see a purpled bruise blooming across his skin, and winces on behalf of him.
She watches him wipe his hand across the back of his mouth, blood welling from a cut in his lip.
"I'm sorry." She apologises, even if she's not quite sure for what.
"You didn't put you boot into my ribs or punch me in the face. Nothing to apologise for."
"I should've done something." Caroline remarks, sinking down onto the kerb beside him and hugging her knees. "Why don't you ever fight back?"
She watches him rummage around for a Kleenex tissue, before he presses it to the cut on his brow.
"I would rather it be me than Kol or Rebekah. You Americans are not very nice to Europeans." He comments mildly, glancing around at the still bustling street.
She immediately feels embarrassed, wiping her hands on her skirt as she meets his eyes briefly. There's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips that lets her know there's no hard feelings despite everything, and it's that alone that has her giving him her own, relieved smile.
Come to think of it, this is the longest that she's ever seen him talk or interact with anyone. She's not sure if she should be flattered or not.
"Is your family German?" She blurts out before she can stop and think about it. He shoots her an annoyed look, like she's just wasting his time, and immediately regrets it.
"My parents are German. I was born and raised in Britain before coming to America. But apparently that doesn't matter to people around here." He spits out more blood, tongue probing at the cut on his lip.
"Do you think there'll be war?" She asks nervously, trying her best to change the subject. It's the hot topic at the moment, discussed in streets and dance halls and in the classroom at school.
Her parents are old enough to remember the horrors of the First World War, and it's something that's not discussed in their household.
"There's already a war." Niklaus replies with an amused smile and she refrains from scowling at him.
"I meant, do you think we'll be asked to fight in it?"
Niklaus doesn't bother to correct her, to inform her that there's no way that she'll ever be allowed to Europe to fight. Instead he stares thoughtfully out onto the street, fingers lacing together in front of him.
"I think this country will do its duty, as it always has."
It's a cryptic answer, and one that she's not satisfied with, but before she has a chance to reproach him a familiar car is pulling to a halt in front of her. She suppresses a groan as her father peers out at her in annoyance, eyes sweeping over Niklaus dismissively.
"Get in the car Caroline." Her father motions impatiently. She hesitates, rising up on her toes for a moment before she turns back to Niklaus.
"Maybe next time try and get a punch or two in. And feel free to talk to me at school you know. People think you're a bit weird Niklaus."
"Caroline." Her father repeats insistently as Niklaus raises an eyebrow canting his head to the side in acknowledgement of her words.
"I'm coming, God." She huffs as she wrenches open the car door, throwing her satchel into the back seat.
"Caroline?" His voice echoes from behind her as she turns to face him. He's up on his feet now, and absolutely towers above her.
She juts her chin out defiantly, one hand on her hip as she waits for him to say whatever he's going to say.
Niklaus smiles and it's bloody.
"Call me Klaus."
They always get it wrong; the dozens of historians that choose to tell her story. Even today in the 21st century, alive when she shouldn't she hasn't bothered to correct them. The truth is far too personal, far too painful for her to share with the rest of the world. She's already been forced to share enough, some of it happening while she was under the ice.
Letters, published for everyone to see. Letters that she'd never intended to see the light of day. The letters that betrayed the depth of her feelings for Niklaus Mikaelson before and during the war, before they were reunited ever so briefly.
It's odd, that even now so far in the future, people still can't seem to let go of the past. Not that she's a shining paragon when it comes to that particular stubborn trait. She's trying as hard as she can to hold onto her past, because she's not sure if she's ready to live in the future alone.
They like to say that her story begins when she became Captain America. But that wasn't the truth.
Her story began on a warm spring day in 1939. It began with a nation on the very brink of war, a boy with spun golden hair and a noble streak a mile wide, and blood.
There was always blood.
AN:
Yooo so this is the long awaited Marvel AU that I've been banging on now for about a month. This story will be angsty and full of flashbacks. Basically this is Caroline as Captain America and Klaus as the Winter Soldier, which is pretty much the perfect recipe for angst. Sorry Ravyn!
This chapter featured a bonus Damon Salvatore who is basically Iron Man in this universe. There will be appearances from other characters that we know and love.
So I'll be simultaneously telling Klaus and Caroline's story in flashbacks as well as in the present day as Caroline struggles to find her place in the world.
I'm feeling really good about this one, and of course hope that you guys all enjoy this!
Shout out to Sophie, Angie, Dhara, Ravyn, and Laine who were super excited about this idea when I put forward a semi formed plot to them. Also Sophie, did you spot the Kleenex reference?
As a bit of trivia, each chapter I'll also include my google searches for various random things.
This chapter:
Events of WWII
History of handkerchiefs (Yes I'm being serious)
Cars during WWII
Insults directed at Germans in 1940's America (absolutely no offence meant to those from Germany reading this fic, this was for authenticity's sake).
See you on the other side, and don't forget to review!