A touch of peace

‚You look like Santa Claus.' Caitlin told Barry while he donned his red costume. The bell on the red bonnet jingled as he tied it under his chin.

'Cool, huh?' He asked as a reply. 'I'll turn at least a few heads wearing this!'

'Definitely!' Cisco chimed in while carrying in a seemingly heavy bag. 'Alright, this is made of the same fabric as your suit. It should withstand the speed at which you are going without damaging the gifts inside.'

'Awesome.' Barry grinned, shouldering the presents.

It had been a spontaneous idea. They had been talking about Christmas and who they were celebrating with and it turned out most of the team was looking at pretty lonely prospects. To change the subject they had veered onto the topic of the Flash's image. The recent fluctuation it had known in the media was not very encouraging. Barry didn't insist on having a great image, but the others knew that deep down he was disappointed that people thought him, or at least the Flash, a menace. He just wanted to help.

When Cisco started throwing around jokes about a possible publicity stunt for Christmas to light the mood, the glint in Barry's eyes quickly turned hypothetical ideas into possible strategies. Two weeks later and here he was with a bag of gifts strapped to his bag, ready to bring joy to everyone around the US.

'Where are you going to first?' Caitlin asked. They had thought up a couple of destinations but had been debating the quickest route for days. It had become a sort of challenge to find the fastest way around the States. Ultimately Barry would just wave off each idea, shrugging at the mere notion that any route would be long for him.

'Wish me luck!' He smiled at his two teammates and before they could reply, he was off.

The Flash zapped through town, barely more than the red blur he was first identified as. He loved the sensation of freedom this speed gave him. He had thought the novelty of it would wear of, but so far it had been an adrenaline rush every single time.

There was no real plan on who he was giving the presents to. Cisco had googled a couple of names but Barry liked the idea of anonymity. The thought of giving for the sake of doing so seemed much more appealing, than selecting people based on different criteria. Who'd make the cut, who wouldn't? He didn't want to be the judge of that. It was Christmas after all. So he dashed through Central City, reaching into the giant bag on his back from time to time, stopping barely long enough to shove the present into somebody's hand and wish them a 'Merry Christmas' in that trademark vibrating voice, before storming on.

But the plan didn't stop there. He soon left his home town behind, racing towards Gotham, Washington D.C, Star City, Chicago, San Francisco and other major US towns. Leaving an impression, that is what he had called it. People just might start to wonder if their opinion about him was wrong if they saw him act charitably on a nationwide level. At least that was the plan. He started humming some Christmas tune, running on without a care in the world, stopping every now and then for food to refuel.

The backpack kept getting lighter and he took one glance at the list he had taped to his wrist to see that only two or three presents were left. It was good then that he was arriving at his last destination: New Orleans.

He rushed into the town without thinking, speeding through the streets, and passing by colorful faces, cheerful faces, and saddened faces. He told himself he picked the people he stopped for at random, but really, something in them made him stop. It was as if they needed this little extraordinary moment. As if the fact that someone would stop dead just for them would make all the difference in the world.

And so Barry slid to a screeching halt when he spotted a guy in a leather jacket, leaning on a balcony, staring out into the night. In a flash he was standing next to him and fished the second to last present out of the bag.

'Merry Christmas.' He almost sang, thrusting something relatively light and rectangular shaped into his arms. The man caught it on instinct and was about to reply something when Barry left him standing and disappeared into the night.

Klaus Mikaelson stared after the man in the red suit. What on earth was that? He didn't like not knowing what happened in his town. For a moment he thought it might have been an illusion, but the package in his hands told a different story. He blinked at it and noticed a small greeting card attached to the front. He carefully flicked it open, still wary that it might be a trap and read it.

Whoever you are, Merry Christmas. I hope whatever is inside this present is exactly what you need.

Thinking the noise in the streets too loud all of a sudden, Klaus stepped inside his home and shut the door. Then he carefully unwrapped the gift. He couldn't remember the last time he had received a present on Christmas. His family wasn't overly fond of the season, mainly because his family wasn't overly fond of each other's company.

Once he saw what was inside he blinked. In a second he was at the window and wanted to follow the man but he knew he was long gone. A vampire? Something told him there was much more at work. Witches? He dismissed the idea. They had better things to do than creating a ridiculous looking man in red attire and a Christmas hat. Yet his instincts kept him on guard. This couldn't be true. Something else must be going on. It couldn't be possible that the only thing he had received was lying on the table, motionless, harmless and beckoning. After a thousand years of intrigue, betrayal and deception, most of which he had caused, Klaus could barely fathom simply receiving a gift out of kindness.

He grappled with himself before walking back to the table and picking up the booklet of piano scores. He flicked through the pages and found nothing but music. Music… His eyes settled on the grand piano that was set up in his bedroom. For a few moments he contemplated what to do before walking over to it, slowly, as if hesitating, and sat down. He ran his fingers over the ivory keys and rested his hands on them for a second. Was he really doing this? He knew he had better things to worry about, more important things to look after. Elijah, Hayley, Marcel, they all wanted something from him and would play their little games to make him comply. He was one step ahead of them, as always, but it was a hassle. Being hated by everyone was a burden he was used to, but every now and then he tired of this deadly game of hide and seek, and wished only to be left alone. His solace, as always, was music and art. How had the stranger known? Had he known? Was this mere coincidence? What did that mean? Klaus had no answer for any of the questions and decided that for once, he would let it go.

He opened the piano scores and started playing.

The melody of Bach's English Suites filled his room, taking him far away, filling his soul with memories he had long forgotten and desires he ignored he had. As he played on, he felt himself be purged from rage and horror, from deception and lies and listened only to the notes, soothing, caressing his mind, reminding him that there was true beauty to be found in the world. Klaus lost himself in the melody, his fingers dancing over the keys by themselves, finding the rhythm all on their own, making the piece come to life like they had so many times before.

Klaus was at peace. With himself, with Elijah, with Hayley and even with Marcel. The music stopped and he let the last sounds reverberate through the room, then die away quietly.

Peace. Maybe that was what Christmas was all about after all.

He turned a page and set to play again.