Disclaimer: I own nothing. because if I did own this show everyone would die of sadness and angst.
yup. so. just you're regularly scheduled angst.
4.13 AU
They don't speak at first.
The sound of Tyler's shoes kissing the pavement, left, right, left, right, echoed in the shells of their ears. If they could hear his shoes than he could hear their words and neither Klaus nor Caroline is willing to share these last moments with anyone else. Death is private.
"You know why he left, right?" Caroline croaks into the silence.
The back of her throat is dry and the air she keeps biting at does nothing to help. She keeps at it though. Caroline is nothing if not stubborn.
"Because he's too afraid to watch you die knowing that this is his fault just as much as it is mine."
He means to be that cruel with his words. He's got murder on his mind. All ready it is working its way to his bones, soaking the marrow with a dark color like the roots of bitter plants. Klaus has already drawn up his plans for this devil town, the body count won't be as high as he'd like but he'll make due.
"He thinks being alone will make it easier," she replies while the ceiling above spins, "for me manipulate your feelings and get you to give me your blood."
Then the ceiling tilts back and forth on the axis of her line of sight. It twirls. The world is dancing without her.
He realizes this is her white flag. He considers putting his boot to her windpipe or snapping her neck so she won't feel a thing. But he doesn't do that. This is just as much his punishment as it is Tyler's, and hers as well.
"Don't worry I'm not gonna," she says feeling older than ever before in her rotting skin, "just thought I'd tell you."
I don't want to die a liar. She doesn't say that part. She's afraid he won't understand. He can cut her into ribbons if he wants. Her eyes slip close and she finds it strange that even the darkness behind her eyelids spins.
Klaus observes her as she lay there on the floor. With her eyes closed she really did look dead and dead things shouldn't talk. He is suddenly reminded that they are all abominations, affronts to nature, but Klaus really couldn't careless. What has nature ever done for him lately besides make him a bastard? Then again it made him a god as well.
"Isn't much of a boyfriend is he? Leaving you to me all on your lonesome," Klaus says because that's what he should do, point out the problems and poke holes where the skin is softest.
"Think you could do better?"
She secretly wishes that he'll say yes.
Klaus finds the question upsetting if only because he knows the answer clearly is not at all what he'd like it to be. So he doesn't answer at first.
Instead he finally allows himself to go to her but moves slowly, almost cautiously. There isn't much a dead girl can do but he's not in the mood for tricks. His shoes make a hollow sound on the wood sending shivers down the floorboards to echo in her ears. It's like thunder to her heightened senses. She counts the seconds in between just like she did when she was child waiting for the storm to strike.
Then the skin of his fingers brushes the sweat on her skin as he pulls her up into his arms. Caroline sighs out of instinct. Klaus sucks in air. She's rotting and the smell is anything but sweet but Klaus doesn't mind it. He's got the stench of thousands of bodies on his skin and he can handle one more.
A sound between a whimper and a bark of laughter escapes her lips when her head falls onto his chest. There's some kind of irony to this. She's sure of it. Klaus cradles her in his arms the act would be almost tender if not for the fact that its his teeth, his spit that's killing her. He smiles when she curls up into him.
"No I'd probably be just as bad," he replies to her question; she has almost forgot.
It's a let down though he knows she won't really mind. All the men in her life have let her down so she'll take his failure in stride. He hates that he sits among them now those bastard men who have cut grooves so deep into her that she's been left patterned, a terrible and perfect work of art. At least he doesn't have to lie to her anymore.
"No one is going to take care of you. You've only got yourself," he says being just a tad too truthful now, "you should know that by now, sweetheart."
If he's being honest, Klaus would admit that he was a little disappointed. He had hoped that out of them all, the good and simple people of Mystic Falls, she would have survived him. If he's being very honest, Klaus would admit that he's devastated.
"I guess I'll never learn now."
He hates her for reminding him that it's almost over, that she'll be gone soon but it's what has to be done. For a moment he just holds her and feels no shame for wanting to keep her knowing that he can't. All of the things she could have been, the places she could have seen, with him or otherwise, he mourns for them. It is the kind of grief that leaves a deep open chasm in his middle. He's amazed he hasn't been cut in half, falling down into the open space where his spine and innards should be. He glances over at the couch and thinks to put her there but doesn't have the heart to let her go. Instead he sways, rocking her broken body back and forth.
It doesn't ease the pain but Caroline is glad that someone is there at the end, even if it's only her murderer. It's a trend she realizes. First it was Katherine now it's Klaus. At least she wasn't alone.
"I'm going to die, aren't I?"
A bit of sadness slips out making her voice crack over the last syllables. In all honesty she's had a pretty good run. She figures that the last year has been spent perpetually dodging death and she's done pretty well. It has been raining bullets in Mystic Falls for a while now and there's no shame in getting caught by one. If anything she's a bit relieved.
"I'll stay until it's done," Klaus murmurs into her hair.
She feels a wave of bitterness roll through her guts. Of course he'll stay. It's not like he could leave. If he could he'd probably run just like Tyler. They could go together, hold hands, sing songs. Then when it was all done they'd play out their sick tragedy. They'll cast blame on both sides but never take it because even her death has nothing to do with her. It is a sick twist of irony.
They'll use her name like a knife and cut into whatever flesh they can find but in the end Caroline will be the only loser. Because who ever dies in their war will have his honor and who ever wins will have the victory. She's the only one who has lost anything. She'll be just another martyr for this stupid war and she's fucking angry. She's been reduced down to a lesson, a casualty, a candle floating up into the air blowing on the whispered names of the fallen and she fucking hates it.
Caroline wants to spit in his face, but her mouth is like cotton and she's got no aim. So she looks up at him instead. All the sharp lines of his face seems to cut and slant to the corners of his mouth pushing them down and down. He's got his eyes closed like maybe he's dying too.
The anger dies in her chest.
"Tell me about it. Tell me about Rome," she whispers but only because now her lungs are collapsing and the blood in her veins have started to curdle.
Caroline didn't mean to sound so pathetic. She'd scream if only she could.
"And Paris, and Tokyo."
"You're in no position to be making demands, love."
But she does so anyway. Dying in his arms, Caroline finally asks him for the world. And perhaps that isn't any sort of forgiveness but he doesn't want forgiveness. There's nothing that could redeem him now and there is no part of him that wants to be redeemed but in those last few moments he lets up his white flag as well. They'll make the best of whatever the can get, for tomorrow she will be gone.
Tomorrow the war resumes.
a/n: yup. I am indifferent towards this. writing in present tense is freakin' hard.