Disclaimer: all characters belong to their creators.
It might take a few chapters for Klaus and Caroline to meet. First they will have to solve some problems on their own. Enjoy!
Chapter 1.
She opens her eyes.
The plaster on the ceiling has grown damp and cracked, a huge piece of it, covered in dirty gray stains, is now hanging over her head.
Rebekah is lying on a hard hospital bed, which seems to have been brought here right after the end of World War I.
Neither her legs nor her hands are chained, she can still move and even her back doesn't hurt that much.
'I guess I'm being lucky after all. But it's high time I left this very friendly looking place'.
She vamp speeds towards one of the two doors, making no sound at all, and clenches her teeth – the room is spinning, her legs burst with pain and she can barely keep herself from screaming. Well, five werewolf bites – not something that happens to you every day.
Rebekah turns the table over, all medical instruments – she prefers not to think of them as of torture devices – roll on the floor, and she easily brakes off the wooden leg. Not a proper stake, of cause, but that'll do for now. She squeezes it in her left hand – the other one is hardly functional with a bloody wound spreading on her forearm.
A quick glance around is enough to understand that she'll have to get out of here as a polite person, through the door. Even if these damned witches didn't put protective spells on the windows, the bars are still too firm for her to brake free.
The opens the door and rushes in the corridor, holding her breath. She has to get out before the hallucinations begin to appear. She has to warn her brothers. She has to come back here later and slowly tear these witches apart limb by limb – sure their heads will add extra charm to her bedroom. She has to…
She doesn't make it in time. Genevieve – a witch from her past she had hoped never to see again – is standing in front of her, smiling gorgeously.
Rebekah takes a fighting stance, closely watching her every move. Vampire or not, a stake through the heart will end her miserable life.
"Long time, ma chérie", smoothly drawls the witch.
Rebekah narrows her eyes and replies with a slight French accent:
"Genevieve".
"Happy you still remember my name".
"Move or I will rip your heart out of your chest and shove it in your throat", warns Rebekah with a growl.
Genevieve simply laughs, throwing her head back. And Rebekah takes that chance.
"Or he will do it! Klaus…"
She tilts her head and looks over the witch's shoulder, letting a wide smile grow on her face.
Genevieve breakes off laughing and turns round in horror – and that millisecond of distraction is enough for Rebekah to whoosh.
Endless corridors flash before her eyes, the smell of blood, sweat and desperation fills her lungs. She puts her hand on the door-knob, – one more step and she will be free – but pulls back, hissing and swearing under breath, staring at her burned palm. The skin gets almost black, just like a coal, and covered by ugly blisters. Fantastic! One more thing to remind her of her huge love towards the witches.
Genevieve appears from behind, stretching an arm and chanting in Latin, a cruel twisted grin never leaving her face. Rebekah falls to her knees, squeezing her temples and tearing the skin off her face. A sob escapes her lips, followed by a loud scream.
"No! Stop it, witch, just stop it now!"
Her body is on fire, her head is exploding from inside as if an atomic bomb were detonating right in it. But her pride won't let her beg Genevieve to stop.
"You fool", growls Rebekah, blood vessels in her eyes split and the image becomes blur. "You will never defeat me! I am immortal…"
Genevieve tsks with her tongue and softly touches Rebekah's chin, pushing her back to the floor.
"Sometimes immortality is not a gift, but a curse. Sure I can demonstrate you that".
Rebekah's eyes go wide with terror as Genevieve's hand dives inside her chest and tears out her still beating heart, holding it high above her head. A few blood drops fall from her fingers and Rebekah catches them with her mouth before passing out…
She opens her eyes.
With a jerk Rebekah sits on the couch, choking with air. Her hand flies to her chest and she releases her breath – the heart is still in place.
'It was a dream, just a nightmare', she tries to reassure herself. 'Witches cannot pull out my heart. No one can!'
She has to hurry, get out of this god forsaken place and bury the memories where they belong. Not so long ago she used to wander along these corridors dressed like a nurse…
This time she chooses the other door. Nasty bites are getting the best of her – not even enough strength to use her vampire speed.
"Long time, ma chérie", Genevieve's voice stops her just outside the room.
'Bloody hell, I'm not repeating my dream!' she internally screams.
This time Rebekah spends no time on being nice – she rushes to the witch and digs into her stomach the first object that comes at hand – an iron candelabrum, the only thing left in this narrow and dimly lit corridor.
But Genevieve only smiles with superiority and easily takes it out of her body with a rotten plop. The sound of it hitting the floor lingers in the air for two long seconds. Genevieve wrenches Rebekah's hand and pines her to the wall.
"Get off me, bitch!" cries Rebekah in desperation.
She swore to herself that never again shall she feel so vulnerable, so powerless, and yet, here she is scratching her cheek against the wall and tasting blood on her lips, struggling to get out of this witch's grip and fighting tears of pain and anger.
"Oh, I haven't even started with you", whispers Genevieve into her ear and roughly tosses her on the floor, stepping with one leg on her chest.
A moan escapes Rebekah's lips as the heel digs deeper, almost reaching her heart. But it's not Genevieve legs that make her tremble, it's her hands. To be more accurate – a white oak stake in them.
"No! It can't be! We destroyed all the stakes!"
Rebekah shakes her head and extends her fangs to scare Genevieve. But the witch lovingly caress her face with a tip of the stake and gently pushes it inside her body.
And, devil, the pain is so real! Rebekah's cry is ringing in her ears; everything goes blank and the only thing she knows for certain is that she is going to die.
'It's a dream. Please, let it be just a dream!'
"Remember, you killed my brother?" asks Genevieve. "You know, it's true. Revenge is a sweet thing indeed".
She raises her hand with a stake soaked in blood.
Rebekah screams.
"Wake me up! Nik, please, please, wake me up! Nik!"
The stake goes through her heart.
She wakes up feeling a cold metal surface underneath her.
She decides against opening her eyes. It's safer this way. Because she already knows where she is.
'I'll get out of here', she makes a silent vow and slowly rises on her feet.
Rebekah was never the one to analyze and calculate – she prefers to think of herself as of genius of spontaneity. But now she is trying to ratiocinate, mentally ordering herself to calm down and overcome the growing panic.
The facts are scanty and not encouraging at all. She is hallucinating. Badly. Maybe even now. She can no longer divide reality and subconsciousness. Even causing pain – such a useful way to break up the nightmare – is not helping.
There is only one choice – to keep trying. To struggle to get out of here, hoping that for once this might be real world and not some creepy vision.
She blinks. Something is streaming down her face, falling on her collarbone.
Blood.
'Great. Just bloody hell amazing! Now she is what – having internal bleeding?'
Rebekah steps out of the room, slowly starting along the corridor. She shakes all the door-knobs, but the doors won't open. First, second, third – no room to enter, nowhere to hide.
The silence is lingering in the air, filling it with thick fear and making it hard to breathe.
The door creaks and Rebekah flinches. She takes two small steps, wiping her eyes with a sleeve of her jacket. It gets soaked through with blood, but now at least she can see.
And the sight makes her freeze.
The room is empty except for the bathtub. Water is dripping over the edge leaving red blots on the floor. The bath if full of human organs.
Her stomach twists, she is about to vomit.
She spots somebody's leg with scraps of flesh, a heart, literally broken in two parts, a child's hand – pale and skinless with a girlish bracelet on her wrist.
"Why have you come?"
A cold hand lies down on her shoulder.
Rebekah screams.
She turns around, moving back. Dozens of cold hollow eyes stare at her accusingly.
Children. Victims. All the boys and girls she has killed for a thousand years.
Their hair is wet and so are their clothes, shredded and covered with dust and dirt, revealing rough scratches and abrasions all over their bodies.
The boy with a scar across his face steps forward. His name was Peter. His twin sister Lucy grins, showing her teeth.
"Why have you come?" they repeat emotionlessly, slowly approaching her, their hands stretches and fingers shivering.
Rebekah takes a step back. One more. Blood is writhing between her bare feet like a snake; her back is pressed into the side of a bath. They are surrounding her, coming closer, staggering and splitting out curses that no child should be familiar with.
"You are not welcome here. We will kill you", Peter burst into laughter.
That year was dreadful for Europe, as she recalls. The plague was ruling it – rotten bodies scattered across the country, filthy rats feeding of them. Back then she cured two dying kids with her blood – not for free of cause. Their stepmother was a nun, and her blood never touched by alcohol, fumes and lust tasted exquisitely. Unfortunately Nik decided to kill those kids to avenge her oh so awful sin that she can't even remember it now. They turned into vampires and that was their death sentence. They were out of control and posed a threat, she had to take them down. And so she did. Ironically, those kids survived the Black Death, but never survived her brother's cruelness.
"I didn't want this". Rebekah whispers. "I would have never done this to you!" tears are pouring from her eyes, choked sobs escaping her throat. "It was all Nik, he demanded I kill you!"
"Like brother like sister", Peter says, coming closer.
"Like brother like sister", others respond in unison.
"No! No!" Rebekah screams, the circle closing around her.
Their hands are all over her body, ripping her garments, tearing off her hair, smashing their fists into her stomach, squeezing out her eyes.
Her back connects with water. She fights back like a wounded animal for its life, but their hands are already on her neck, forcing her to sink deeper, deeper into this world of blood, cut skin, burned flesh.
'No one's gonna save me. I am doomed to die", she thinks before she takes a deep breath, letting the water poor into her throat, burning its way down.
This time it ends pretty quickly.
She wakes up only to see Alexander hovering above her, showing his white teeth.
The boy she loved so much, that seeing him like this still hurts, as if the wound he inflicted has never healed.
"I know you are not real", she tells him proudly, her voice cracking slightly.
He smiles softly, tenderly and shakes his head.
"Right now I'm the only thing you believe to be real".
He pines her to the bed with four wooden stakes and sets the room on fire.
Her imagination is vivid, Rebekah concludes, whipping her forehead – bloody hell, how she sticks!
She doesn't know what time, or even what day it is. She has lost count how many times she has died. She burnt and drowned, her head broke to pieces and her blood boiled, Nicklaus stabbed her with a white-oak stake and so did Elijah…
She is lost somewhere between reality and hallucinations. And she knows what she has to do.
Rebekah bends over and falls down from the bed. Crawling, she gets to the table with medical instruments, reaching for the surgical scalpel. She is gonna do it hard way if she has.
She carefully cuts her right palm open and swears under breath.
Pain is a bitch.
She has to get rid of the werewolf venom in her blood, and to do that she has to drain herself of blood. She won't let her fear and regrets control her. She is an Original. And she doesn't give up.
Holding her breath, Rebekah slices her arm lengthwise.
A week moan escapes her lips.
'Oh, they are all so fucking dead'.
Klaus moves sharply, trying with all his force to break the metal chains that bind his limbs. He can hear his bones cracking, but the fetters stay in place.
He wonders if these witches have a dead wish and what kind of vampire sedative could have weakened him to this level.
"Hello, Nicklaus", a familiar voice says.
A voice from his nightmares.
Mikael.
Klaus unintentionally flinches.
"Came here directly from hell to mock at me?" he growls, letting his fangs drop.
Mikael smirks and bends over him, eyeing him with clear amusement.
"You don't even imagine how comforting it is to see you like that. Weak, powerless, so arrogant and impulsive. After all these years you still haven't learnt: passion, even for blood or murder, will be your downfall. I can stake you at heart and my pulse won't quicken a bit. However, I won't deny – the sight of your lifeless body will feel like a balm to my wounded soul", his smirk grows wider and his voice drops to whisper.
"You already had a chance to admire my lifeless body", Klaus retorts. "When you stabbed me with a sword. Didn't even let us finish dinner".
"Oh, I never planned to turn you into vampire in the first place", Mikael pushes his hand inside Klaus's chest and squeezes his heart. "I went in for Rebekah. Hadn't you shielded her with your body, I'd have one less problem to deal with".
"Then go ahead", Klaus hisses. "What are you afraid of, father?! Maybe it's the absence of the white-oak stake that makes you hesitate? Or the fact", he rises slightly to meet Mikael's eyes, not showing any fear, "that I know: you're in my head. And I can kick you out!"
He thrusts his nails into his hands and bites on his lip – hard, his head hitting the hospital bed with all force – an average man would have his skull broken in two parts.
When he opens his eyes, Mikael is gone.
"I was expecting to see you", Klaus confesses.
He keeps on staring at the grey wall, not bothering to turn his head.
Her scent is far too familiar, it got printed on his mind and he seriously doubts he will ever stop feeling it follow him anywhere he goes.
"I am not who you believe me to be", a thin hand gently strokes his hair.
"Don't…" his voice shakes and he has to swallow a pathetic 'please' that burns his throat.
"I am your mother, Niklaus. You can be honest with me", she whispers as Klaus deliberately smirks in her face. "I am neither a ghost, nor a delusion of your imagination. A creature born to the darkest of magic, but not a phantom".
"Right. Because my imagination would have created you with a stake in hand", he raises one brow and smiles his deadliest smile at Ester.
She takes a step back, clearly offended.
"I'm truly sorry for what I've done to you, my son. But I've come to acquit myself. I drove Mikael away…"
Klaus clenches his teeth.
"You are nothing more than a loathsome…"
"What?" she interrupts. "A loathsome hallucination? Then why can't you just make me disappear?"
He splits on the floor, feeling pain in his temples increasing.
Esther runs her hands through her hair. She is desperate.
"I came here for your forgiveness!" she looks him intensely in the eye. "Do you pardon me?"
"Fine", Klaus stresses the word and, seeing his mother's relieve, adds hoarsely. "I don't. I will never grant you my forgiveness. Now you can go back to hell", the corners of his lips go up.
Blood fills her eyes.
"Only with you!"
She throws herself upon him, snarling, and shoves a white-oak stake through his heart.
'Now, who is the bigger monster, mother?'
Klaus finds it amusing how these witches blindly believe they will break him after he has survived more than fifty years of endless torture, caused by the hunter's curse.
Their magic is no match to his power.
"Missed me, brother?"
Klaus yawns. These tricks are getting old. He will never truly recover from Kol's death, but hallucination or not, he won't apologize to his little brother. Not aloud at least.
A whistle cuts the air – a wooden stake flies across the room, right into Kol's heart, making him disappear in a blink of an eye.
Klaus raises a brow and lets out an evaluative hem. My, my, that's something new.
"Klaus? Oh my God!"
He inhales deeply, fear consuming his mind.
'Caroline… No, not you!'
When he said he could survive anything he didn't mean her.
Caroline runs to him, shining and fearless as always. A look of genuine concern on her face almost makes him want to cry.
"What have they done to you?" she quietly wonders, letting her gaze linger on his freshly heeled wounds.
He doesn't even have a chance to open his mouth, as she changes her mind.
"No, don't answer. Save your strength. I'm gonna get you out of here", she confidently says and tries to rip the chains away.
He smells her blood as she hurts her hand, but the handcuffs stay in place.
"Ugh, what are they made of, titanium?" complains Caroline, growling angrily.
Klaus can't help but smile.
She bites her lip and crosses her arms across the chest, clearly annoyed.
"Hey," her eyes sparkle with a fresh idea. "could you, could you free yourself if you had enough strength?
She stammers, but Klus still nods, understanding her perfectly.
Caroline's face lightens up.
"Then you're going to need warm blood, oh…"
She stops abruptly and shifts from one foot to another, avoiding his piercing gaze.
Klaus can easily tell that the thought of offering him her blood doesn't seem quite appealing to Caroline. But she shakes up her head and says in a commanding voice.
"Ok. I'm gonna give you my blood, but as soon as we're out of here, you'll tell me what the hell is going on. And don't even think of getting away with the explanation! Or I'll chain you to the bed myself!"
She blushes, realizing how twisted that sounded, and Klaus grins.
"Next time, love".
Caroline rolls her eyes and turns round to bite her wrist.
Klaus observes her, not missing anything: her gorgeous body, her girlish outfit, her hair – properly arranged in locks… And he laughs, scolding himself for stupidity.
"It's all in my head, isn't it?" he is not asking, he is pretty certain in his guess.
Caroline slowly turns to face him.
"Mikael, Ester, Kol… her. Nice try indeed. That's why the visions are so real – they are not coming from some external interference, but from my mind. Still, however disappointing this may sound, you have miscalculated it here, witch", Klaus breathes out. "Even my mind can't portrait her… in all her glory, with all her inner light and passion for life. No offence sweetheart, but you are only a projection of real her! You will never be able to capture this perfect combination of her imperfect, yet so peculiar and genuine features. You are a fake", he simply states.
At his last words her face dissolves in the air and Klaus feels as though a dagger was pulled out of his heart.
Loud claps get him out of his thoughts.
"Bravo! How clever of you!" teases the red-haired witch, approaching him confidently, but keeping her distance.
She used to be one of his least favorite witches. Well, before Rebekah ended her.
Genevieve looks at him with conscious superiority, but it's obvious that she is on the verge of breaking. Papa Tunde's blade is clenched in her fingers, as she puts it forward, struggling for control.
Well, he will let her feel as if she were in control. That's the best you can do for a woman to blunt her vigilance.
"Come closer, love," he smiles seductively. "I won't bite, I promise".
She hastily takes a step ahead.
"What makes you think I'm afraid of you?" she hisses much to his amusement – it's always thrilling to hear people lying to you when you know the truth. "If all, you should be. It's you not me being chained up".
"Tell me how much you enjoy it, seeing me like this".
She licks her lips.
"To tell the truth, it's Bastianna who is after you. I'd rather enjoy torturing your little sister. Quite pathetic – she went mad after only two hours of hallucinations".
'Bekah…'
He swallows hard.
"Well, let me guess", he drawls lightly, "an endless stream of boyfriends cheating on her and daggering her. A tedious picture. May I suggest you exchange her for Elijah? I assure you my brother's fears are much more vivid".
Genevieve smiles – his attempt to save Rebekah has been too obvious.
"I wonder if you'll still continue to care for her after you learn what she did?" she snorts.
Klaus bows his head slightly letting her go on.
"I thought you girls were friends?" he inquires, raising a brow.
Genevieve makes a wry face and carefully sits on the edge of his bed. Much to his pleasure Klaus notices that she is starting to feel comfortable and relaxed in his presence.
"You know, I met her here, in this godforsaken sanatorium. It was originally meant for influenza patients, but at that time it was also used as a military hospital. I was young, reckless… And I thought it was so nice of an Original vampire to be a nurse, to attend to patients' needs, to treat them. That was before I learnt that she fed on them".
Klaus stared at her, waiting for continuation.
"Right, why should that bother you? To cut a long story short, one day she met my brother here, took a notice of him and proposed a deal – she will heal him with her blood and in return he will abandon his family and stay with her forever. He laughed in her face. And that was his last mistake in life".
Klaus rolled up his eyes. He swears Bekah's naivety in love affairs is going to be the death of her one day!
Genevieve covers her face with her hands, her vague voice barely audible.
"She told me you did it. Told me you killed Luc! And I was foolish enough to believe her, to do what she asked me to – to find Mikael".
Klaus twitches involuntary and suppresses the desire to snap her neck.
"You know it's true – don't even try to deny it. Your sister and her lover Marcel wanted to get rid of you for good. They made me bring Mikael to New Orleans. They promised me safety, but then they panicked and exposed me to Mikael as a witch who was on your side. He was busy chopping off my head when you dragged your precious Rebekah out of the city and far from her lover".
It should have better been a white-oak stake. At least he was expecting it.
Now as never before he regretted having a heart. Rebekah has just left another open wound on it. He had to summon all his powers for his facial expression to stay impassive.
"Well, I guess you heard how this works: I get mad, dagger Rebekah and live happily for a hundred years till some fool doesn't revive her. And then she pisses me off again", Klaus chuckles.
Rebekah's betrayal has just destroyed him. But he'll be damned if he lets anyone see it!
Genevieve's gaze flows along his body, she bends over him, tilting her head to the left. And then she lowers herself on him, her legs on both sides of the bed, their hips touching.
Genevieve smiles and rips his shirt revealing his naked chest.
Klaus laughs slightly, licking his lips.
She takes a blade and traces a line from his neck to his stomach, not piercing the skin.
"Are you gonna torture me, or fuck me?" Klaus asks hoarsely.
"Mmm, how about both?" archly smiles Genevieve and leans to kiss him, moving her hips against his sensually.
Fatal decision.
Klaus sinks his teeth into her neck and as she screams, unsuccessfully fighting him, he breaks free, tearing the chains off and letting them fall to the floor.
He picks up the blade from the floor and walks towards barely conscious from the blood loss Genevieve. Her eyes are wide and full of terror. And it arouses him more than her pathetic attempts to seduce him.
"Now love, tell me, where I can find my sister?"
R&R