"It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a mistake. But, when you're a vampire, life is blood and blood binds."
Elena plops herself down on her bed quite unceremoniously, sighing.
"Where do you think she's gone?" she asks Bonnie, worry seeping into her usually calm tone. "It's not like Caroline to skip classes, she's the one who cares the most about all this out of the three of us."
Bonnie slightly rolls her eyes as she rummages through her clothes in search of an appropriate top.
"You mean she's the only one who cares about all this."
Elena frowns at that. "To be honest, I don't think she's so wrong in wanting some normality in her life after all the craziness that we've been going through these past few years."
"Maybe," Bonnie concedes after a moment, closing one of the drawers with more force than necessary as she straightens back up on her feet and shrugs off the purple blouse she's wearing to replace it with a sparkly black vest top. "But I've died, Elena, college isn't really top on my list of priorities right now. I've been given a second chance at life and I intend to fully enjoy it."
Elena nods, smiling softly. "I understand," she says—but no, she doesn't, not really. Her and Caroline are vampires, immortal, something that Bonnie will never be.
The witch finally turns to her friend, a huge grin plastered on her face as she opens her arms at her sides and shows off her new outfit.
"So, what do you think?"
"I think that you look smoking hot, Bon," the brunette laughs, simply happy to finally have her best friend back after having been so sure that she had lost her forever.
"I know, right?" the other girl joins in the laughter. "Just let me go to the bathroom real quick and then we can leave, okay?"
"Sure. I'll text Damon to meet us there and try to call Caroline again."
"It's a frat party, Elena," Bonnie rolls her eyes again. "You shouldn't bring your boyfriend along," she quips before disappearing into the bathroom just as Elena throws her a somewhat dumbfounded look and busies herself with her phone nonetheless.
Bonnie carefully locks the bathroom door behind her, moving towards the big, square mirror propped just above the washbasin.
She turns the cold water knob and lets the fresh liquid flow down on her hands. It feels nice. Every material, tangible sensation has felt nice for her in these past few couples of days since she has come back to the 'land of the living'. It still feels surreal to think about the fact that she had actually been dead—like dead, dead—for over four months.
Her life was never supposed to be like this.
Sighing, she shuts her eyes tight and bows down a bit, splashing some water on her face.
She takes a moment before exhaling forcefully through her mouth and then lifting herself up again.
Her heart jumps in her throat and she's barely able to stifle a gasp at the sight that greets her on the mirror.
"Esther..." she whispers—Elena is gifted with enhanced vampire hearing and she's only on the other side of the door.
"Don't worry, Bonnie, your friend can't hear us," the original witch reassures her with a kind smile that only makes her blood freeze even more in her veins.
"What do you want?"
"You know what I want."
"It's too soon," Bonnie stutters, her hands gripping the edge of the sink as she feels her legs shaking and barely sustaining her.
"I made the spell. I know it will take you quite some time to get everything together. I just felt it appropriate to remind you of our deal," her cold, stony eyes focus into Bonnie's. "I would hate, dear child, for you to have to rejoin me here, were anything to go wrong."
Bonnie nods, the threat heard loud and clear—she had never been that naïve to believe she would find an easy way out of this mess, anyway.
"I remember our deal," she replies with all the confidence that she can muster, which is not much. "And I have every intention of seeing it through."
"Good," Esther smiles again, and it's downright terrifying.
Bonnie opens her mouth again for a moment, but nothing comes out.
The mirror flashes blood red for less than a second and then everything is gone, and all she can see reflected back to her is her scared, trembling stance, and the death dancing in her eyes.
"Bonnie, are you okay in there?" Elena's slightly concerned voice reaches her through the door, bringing her back to the present.
She doesn't answer, simply somehow wills her legs to move again and finally opens the door to find her two best friends looking at her with furrowed eyebrows.
"Yeah, sorry," she shakes her head with a strained smile. "Hey, Care."
Caroline greets her with a small nod, seemingly on edge.
"Yeah, someone," Elena smiles, turning towards her blonde friend with a pointed look. "Finally decided to grace us with her presence," she teases.
Caroline rolls her eyes just as Bonnie laughs, trying her best to forget all about her latest encounter in the bathroom—she deserves this night.
"That's great. At least she can be my wingman since Damon is coming."
Caroline does a gagging sound, earning another laugh from Bonnie while their brunette friend regards them both with a stern look.
"Seriously, Elena? Damon might as well just enroll and get a dorm room already."
"Shut up, you two," she reproaches them with an accusing pointing finger, but her tone is light and teasing and a smile is still adorning her lips. "It's not my fault you two don't have a fine piece of man yourselves," she grins, pushing them both towards the door.
"Oh, yeah, it's definitely the jealousy talking," Bonnie snorts. "How did you find out that I'm actually in love with Damon?" she feigns a gasp, widening her eyes in a bewildered expression.
Elena simply rolls her eyes, elbowing her friend jokingly, and the last thing heard before the trio finally closes the door behind them is Caroline's shrill, teasing voice.
"I'm still team Stefan!"
:
:
Sighing, Klaus finally arrives at the bottom of the staircase, blond hair still mildly wet after his very long shower.
He had taken his time to think—a lot of it, actually—but the result had been pretty useless. No matter the fact that he knows that chances are that his and Caroline's bite marks not disappearing can mean nothing but trouble, he couldn't help himself from drinking from her again earlier—effectively forcing her to bite into him again as well, as his werewolf venom would have been otherwise fatal to her (although he didn't exactly hear her complain about it).
It scares him, really, like very few things have scared him in his whole existence—and isn't that saying something?—that he can't seem to control himself when it comes to Caroline.
He's the original hybrid, after all, and he has roamed this Earth for over a thousand years, shouldn't he be able to deny himself some blood when the situation is potentially already dangerous?
It's hard to explain—impossible—this pull that he feels towards her. Towards her body, her blood, her mind. Everything about her just draws him in, and he's powerless against it—against her. He's not even sure if he actually wants to fight it—this wondrous, astonishing, new feeling, this choking, this relentless, infinite grip that she has on his black, black heart—for it makes him feel alive and he has been dead since he had taken his first breath.
(He understands it now, that being human and being alive don't necessarily mean the same thing. They don't to him).
And, is he (immortal) willing to risk his life—is this a trap, a spell, a curse—if it means that he gets to feel Caroline's petal soft lips on his again, her warm, delicate body writhing under his in pleasure, her voice whispering and whimpering his name like it's him that she has been waiting for and wanting her whole life?
Yes.
The realization doesn't even startle him, doesn't even surprise him, but it does make his heart–
–"Oh, my God. You do have a heart."–
–go a little heavier, and—aren't you just the perfect Tin Man?
(How weak, how pathetic).
But he can't help it. And even just the memory of Caroline surrendering to him, her face twisting in pleasure as she came undone around him and screamed his name over and over again—last night, and then again just an hour ago—is enough to make every other sacrifice worth it.
It took him quite some time but, at last, he finally understood—nothing, no war won, no kingdom to rule, no immortality gained, matters if you can't share it with someone else special. And Klaus has found her, now, his someone special, and he is not willing to let her go. It's a very un-Klaus-like thought, and he knows, but he'd rather spend one more, last day with Caroline than an eternity without her.
Obviously, an eternity with Caroline is the option that appeals to him the most, which means that he needs to understand what is going on with the bite marks—sooner, rather than later.
The slight creaking of the front door opening reaches his ears, and he's on alert in an instant, ready to pounce, ready to fight, but–
"Elijah?"
"Hello, Niklaus," the older Mikaelson greets him, the usual half smirk gracing his lips.
But Klaus has no time nor patience for pleasantries—and, really, when does he ever?
"What are you doing here?" he asks, harshly—he still hasn't completely lost his tense stance, for he can still see a fight, however maybe not physical anymore, ahead.
Elijah sighs, almost wistfully, and closes the door behind him with next to no noise although it does resound throughout the whole, silent, tense and empty hall.
"You had said you'd be back in a day."
"Yes. And that was just yesterday, if I recall correctly."
"And yet, here you are. You don't seem to me to be on your way back to New Orleans."
Klaus eyes him warily, clenching his jaw in annoyance. "I believe I can take as much time away from my kingdom as I please."
Elijah bows his head slightly towards him, almost as if in a complaisant nod, his eyebrows furrowing in a scold. "I just don't understand what there could possibly be here of greater importance to you."
"That is none of your business," he replies hastily, the hints of his anger barely hidden beneath the yellow already dancing at the corners of his eyes.
It is just too late when he notices the recognition crossing his brother's eyes in a flash–
–so there is something.
His hands ball in fists at his sides, his jaw clenching almost painfully—Elijah cannot know about Caroline.
Old scars and burns are hard to heal.
"Actually, I believe it is my business—whatever it is that you are planning," Elijah retorts, a strong, determined edge to his as ever composed tone. "You always seem to bring our family down with you, and I'm not going to let you do that this time."
"What family?" Klaus scoffs. "Rebekah only stays with me out of her own misery, and you—you are distrusting me even now, Brother," he spits the last word with loathing, an incredulous laugh tottering on the tip of his actually (deep, deep down) hurt tone.
"With cause," Elijah points out forcefully, narrowing his eyes.
"Well, I can promise you that what I'm handling here at the moment concerns neither you nor Rebekah."
Elijah's face twists in a mixture of concern and skepticism–
–"See, I've learned not to trust your vulgar promises, Klaus."–
–and for a fleeting moment he seems to be on the verge of speaking again, of saying more, but then decides against it.
"Aren't you going to offer me something?" he sighs, eventually, and finally shrugs off his dark blue coat.
If his sudden acquiescence surprises Klaus, then the latter doesn't show it, as a smirk makes its way to his lips and he promptly turns on his feet to walk into the spacious and dimly illuminated living room, immediately going towards his alcohol stash cabinet—he, too, could really use a drink after all.
He takes out two tumblers and one of the most expensive bottles of Bourbon that he owns, effortlessly pouring the liquid down into the two glasses.
By then, Elijah has joined him in the room, sitting on one of the two mirroring leather couches, a somewhat pensive look that promises no good still present on his face.
With a nod, he accepts the proffered whiskey glass and then Klaus opts for the opposite couch, relaxing against it with an arm thrown lazily on the back of it.
The silence is deafening.
"Is everything fine back home?" Klaus asks, his voice scratching slightly, almost catching in his throat, as his accent wraps around the word home—how could New Orleans ever possibly be home with a family that hates him and without the woman that he loves by his side?
Elijah raises his eyes into his brother's warily, mindlessly twisting his wrist and making the glass move, the liquid inside of it twirling around almost gently.
"Everything is under control, yes," he answers eventually, with a sigh. "You've won, Niklaus. You shouldn't worry about it anymore."
The hybrid's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching imperceptibly at the almost scolding, obliging tone. Elijah may be the eldest, but Klaus was the strongest and the most powerful of them all, and that was his kingdom. Only his.
"I'm taking a few days away from it all. Does it seem to you like something a worried man would do?" he smirks challengingly, his eyes glinting dangerously as he finally brings the tumbler to his lips and takes a big, first sip.
Elijah shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he looks down and briefly closes his eyes.
"Of course not, that is not what I meant. It would do you some good to not take everything to heart so much, Brother."
The reproach, no matter how lightly pronounced, only enrages Klaus even further.
(Elijah knows, but he's done tiptoeing around his own brother).
"I don't have a heart, Elijah—remember?" he retorts after a moment, his face hard and unreadable, the perfect mask of his faux indifference.
Elijah frowns, displeased by such a comment.
"If only you let yourself open to love,"–
–Klaus just has to mentally scoff, because—look at where that had gotten him, right?–
–"you would perhaps realize that your heart is not as dead as you believe it to be."
Yeah. Like he doesn't bloody know. Like it's not already tearing him apart, hurting him worse than a white oak stake ever could, bringing him down on his knees, back to ashes.
He scoffs, instead (for real, this time), and stares off around the room because Elijah is still his brother—after everything, in spite of everything—and he would know, he would see, he would understand, and he can't. Not yet, at least. Not when he still has to sort through it all himself. It's too soon.
"You have way too much faith in me, Brother. I would have thought, that after everything that we have been through together, you would have finally realized that there is no saving me."
He means it as a taunt to Elijah, but his tone is too bitter, too cold and too dejected, and he hurts himself with it instead.
It's like he has just voiced his deepest and most concealed fear, because—he wants to be saved. All everybody ever wants is to be saved.
The revelation hangs silently between the two brothers, each finishing their own drink.
But there's only so much one can do when not talking, and it's a matter of seconds before Elijah's vampire eyes finally focus on Klaus' neck.
His eyes widen, if only ever so slightly, and he looks almost comically surprised, his eyebrows furrowing together.
"Niklaus, are you–are you wearing make-up?" he asks, squinting his eyes even though he knows that his enhanced sight can't betray him.
"Now, don't be ridiculous, Brother," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Why would I ever?"
"You have... powder. On your neck," Elijah insists, slightly moving forward with his chest although he still does not stand up.
Recognition flashes through Klaus' eyes then—the bite mark—and he feels immensely grateful to whichever being above him–
–but there isn't any, really, and he prides himself of that–
–for he had the idea of covering it up right after his shower, or it would be quite the problem now, had Elijah seen it.
He clears his throat, and tries to still act composed and casual, when, in all truthfulness, he's anything but. But he really doesn't need Elijah prying on in this situation when he's still not sure what it means himself, so he needs to be extra smart about it.
"I've just had a shower," he answers, eventually, exhaling forcefully through his mouth to convey an air of annoyance at how utterly ridiculous Elijah is being. "Something must have inadvertently dropped on me while I was in the bathroom, I suppose."
It's a weak excuse, and he knows. Because, really, when does a vampire ever drop anything or let something drop on himself, right? But all Elijah does is arch his eyebrows for a moment and then sigh, although looking utterly unconvinced.
After a moment, Klaus sets his now empty glass on the small table between the two couches and then stands up, head held up high and shoulders straightened.
"If you'll excuse me, Brother, I have somewhere I need to be now. But you're free to stay here in Mystic Falls as well, as long as you please."
Both men know that that's a big albeit needed—Klaus doesn't want Elijah to get any more suspicious than he already is—lie, but, regardless, all the older sibling does is nod politely.
Klaus retrieves his leather jacket from the hall stand and then doesn't waste one more second before leaving the house. He can't quite pinpoint why, but he feels a sort of uneasiness, and every cell in his body is screaming at him to go and visit Caroline again—for he needs her far much more than he needs blood—but he doesn't want to be too oppressive. He needs for her to come to him willingly.
Instead, his fingers quickly dial the number of the only person he knows that might help him to actually shed some light on the whole situation.
When someone on the other line finally picks up, he smirks.
"Sweetheart, long time no talk."
:
:
For the second time that day, although the sky is now much darker and the air much colder, Klaus finds himself wandering around Whitmore College, hands firmly clasped behind his back.
When he called his witch, earlier—Darlene, she was the most knowledgeable witch he knew, and he knew many—her voice didn't falter for one instant as she told him, deep-rooted hatred laced in her strong Southern accent, that she would have to see both him and his girl—the thrill that those two words pronounced in reference to Caroline sent down his spine was as exciting as it was scary—to assess the situation.
Not wanting to lose any precious time, and also feeling the incredible need to see Caroline again, Klaus was in his car and on the road before he had even hung up the call yet.
Now, a small smirk makes its way to his lips as he foresees Caroline's indignant but blushing reaction at him showing up unexpectedly twice in the same day.
He's already on his way to her dorm room, when a commotion coming from the building on the other side of the campus courtyard catches his immediate attention.
Curious, he rather unceremoniously stops the first boy that comes across him by the lapels of his jacket, rolling his eyes as the poor freshman widens his and gulps down nervously.
"What's going on in there?" he tilts his head towards the aforementioned building.
"A party," the boy answers straight away, although almost gingerly. "For all the freshmen."
Klaus smirks—found her. Caroline certainly isn't one for missing an opportunity to mingle, now, is she?
"Thank you, mate," he releases the boy, who stumbles awkwardly on his feet and nods before quickly scurrying away.
Smirk firmly in place, he purposefully strides towards the entrance of the building, the crowd rounded around it parting like the Red Sea at his confidence and narrowed eyes—it gives him a twisted sense of pride mixed with satisfaction, to know that he can still make people fear him without them even knowing just how dangerous he really is to their petty, fleeting, human lives.
As soon as he's finally inside, he strains his hearing and starts looking around the spacious but overly crowded and loud room. He knows that if Caroline is here, it won't take him long to find her—he is scarily in tune with her, after all—but he also knows that if she's present then it means that the doppelgänger and the Bennett witch will most likely be as well, and he most certainly has no intention of bumping into them, for both his and their sake. (He's also pretty sure that Caroline wouldn't be too keen on her pathetically judgmental friends knowing what the two of them have been up to lately, and he doesn't want to ruin the fairly good mood between them just yet).
Luckily for him, it doesn't take him more than a minute to catch the familiar sound of her tinkling laughter, but as he moves through the mass of people to follow it to its originating source, the sight that greets him quickly makes his blood boil in his veins.
Caroline is leaning against a wall, her back to him and a drink in hand as she casually chats and laughs with some overly muscular frat boy who is standing way too close to her for Klaus' liking.
It really takes all of his willpower to not just spring there and snap the pathetic boy's neck for daring to get that close to his Caroline. Because he knows now, he knows that she returns his feelings (some of them, at least), and he'll be damned–
–but isn't he already?–
–if he lets some stupid, pointless boy get in the way of that. No. He was—and still is, to an extent—willing to wait for her as she sorted through her relationship with Tyler and came to terms with how she really felt about him, but he has no intention to just stand there as she plays pretend and flirts with the first poor excuse of a man in sight to forget what has transpired between them.
With strong and long, purposeful strides, he walks the distance between him and the pair in mere seconds, his face hard and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
He can see the exact moment in which Caroline finally feels his presence behind them, as her whole body stiffens imperceptibly and her neck slightly tilts to the side, almost as if she wants to look back towards him but, at last, refrains.
He barely acknowledges the boy—a quick 'Sorry, mate' to his funnily outraged expression when he's not sorry really, not at all, and it's obvious in his smirk and the mirth dancing at the corners of his eyes. She's his, and if somebody dares looking at her like that ever again then it's their blood pumping through his rotten heart and their bleeding organs in his hands next time. So, he simply grips her elbow—and it's oh, so familiar to Caroline, and she shouldn't have goosebumps rising on her skin at such a simple contact—and takes her somewhere else more private.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Caroline!" he shouts, eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. They're in a deserted hallway now, upstairs, but his thundering tone is still subdued by the deafening music and the loud people dancing under their feet.
Caroline's eyes widen. "What the hell I am doing?" she scoffs disbelievingly. "What about you? What makes you think that you have any right to drag me away from a company that I was very much enjoying?" she challenges him, her words aiming for the vulnerable jealousy that she can see in his darkened, blue eyes, because—what is she good at if not hurting him?
Klaus' eyes narrow on her as he takes a dangerous step forward, intruding into her personal space like he loves so much to do (another one of their things, she supposes).
"Don't test me, love," he warns her through gritted teeth.
She scoffs again, defying him (she's always defying him, again and again and again), and then folds her arms across her chest, making it impossible for his stare to not focus on her more than prosperous cleavage, her breasts unfairly proportionate when compared to her lithe, thin figure. She has changed since he has last seen her, only a couple of hours ago, and she's now wearing a much more provocative and revealing purple top. It makes him go mad with both need but also anger at the thought of any other man seeing her like this.
Eventually, he's the one who sighs, relenting (it's always him, really, for he's unashamedly scared of losing her, of scaring her away for good).
"Let's not have a replay of today's silly, little spat, shall we?"
"Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't mind replaying our earlier spat," she mumbles, almost to herself, as she turns to her right to look at nothing in particular.
It's obvious which kind of 'spat' she's actually referring to, and Klaus can't help the mischievous grin that takes shape on his lips, taking another step forward so that they're literally almost chest to chest and all Caroline can do is turn her stare into his again.
"Are you offering, love?"
Caroline scoffs, but the slight blush forming on her cheeks is unmistakable. She does all that she can to avoid his eyes though, shaking her head.
"As if it's not bad enough–" but she pauses, unsure. "We don't even know what's going on with these," she points to the side of her neck, the bite mark covered in foundation much like his is as well.
She knows that, technically, she hasn't exactly answered his question—Is she offering?—but the bite marks are indeed a problem that they need to sort out, and therefore both choose to ignore her diversion. For the time being, at least.
Klaus' eyebrows furrow, and he brings a hand up to caress the slightly colder spot on Caroline's neck. In a second, she has her fingers around his wrist, stopping him.
"Don't. It will show."
"I want it to show," he whispers, gently backing her against the wall behind her.
"That's twisted," she breathes out. She intends it as an hateful, disgusted, low blow, but her voice comes out too low and too breathless as he bends down slightly to kiss her neck, licking away the concealing make-up so that he can see his branding mark on her again.
He hums against her skin, and the vibrations go straight to her already aching core, making her womb clench and twist painfully in need as she squirms under the pleasant weight of his body.
"Don't," she says as firmly as she possibly can, resting one hand against his chest and pushing him away.
They both know that, had he really wanted, she would have never been able to distance his body from hers, but he wants her, willingly, and he knows that she's almost there on her own already.
He does have something to tell her, anyway. It's the main reason why he had come all the way here in the first place (or so he believes), but it's far too easy to lose himself when he's with her.
Somehow begrudgingly, he takes a step back.
"I have news, actually."
Caroline's eyebrows lift in pleasant surprise. "You do?"
"Sort of. I contacted a witch of mine. She knows all that there is to know about everything supernatural, but she needs to see the both of us to understand what the situation is."
"Oh, alright. When is she coming?"
"Oh, sweetheart, so naïve," Klaus grins, earning himself an annoyed glare from the blonde. "She's not. We will be going to her."
Caroline grimaces. "Where?" she asks without preamble.
"She lives in Alabama. Montgomery, to be exact."
The vampire huffs, briefly closing her eyes. "Alright. When are we going?"
"Well, I'd say the sooner the better. So... tomorrow?"
"Okay, I guess," she sighs, her mind already working a mile a minute, thinking of what she could possibly tell Elena and Bonnie to excuse her disappearance for a whole day. Today had already been a close call, skipping almost all of her classes only because she couldn't seem to be able to control herself when she was around Klaus—it couldn't happen ever again. Because, if there is anything Caroline hates, it's not being in control.
Klaus nods, a seemingly satisfied smirk on his lips. "Should I pick you up from here tomorrow morning then?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever," she answers, trying to make the annoyance she feels as clear as possible through her dismissive tone.
"Be ready at five, then."
"What? Why in hell do we have to leave that early?"
"Well, it is a ten hour car ride, love."
"Oh, God, are you insane? Car ride? Aren't you like a multimillionaire or something? Just get us a private jet!" she complains rather petulantly, once again crossing her arms over her chest.
Klaus groans. "Can you not do that, love?"
"Do what?" she frowns.
"That," he gestures towards her chest, an almost pained expression on his face. "I want you, but you're being petty, so–"
She gasps, effectively interrupting him, her arms immediately falling at her sides as her whole neck and face grow hot in sheer embarrassment.
"So it is my fault?" she snorts indignantly. "Just learn some self-control! What are you, thirteen?"
"I can't exactly control myself around you, love."
(And it is so bad that his voice makes chills go down her spine and heat pool between her legs).
"Well, I don't care," she stutters, miserably failing at trying to look unaffected.
"Mmh. You didn't seem to mind yesterday. Or earlier, for that matter," he utters quietly, once again backing her against the wall, his hard body pressing completely against her much softer one.
Caroline gulps, breathing heavily. "Stop."
Their noses are touching, and they're panting into each other's mouth. They're so close, their eyes having nowhere else to look at if not into the other's intense and compelling gaze.
Caroline's blue irises are almost trembling, and she's clenching her hands in fists so hard that her nails are leaving deep cuts and drawing blood. But Klaus can smell it far too well and it only worsens the predicament that they're in even more. They gave in once already, and they both know that they can't, not anymore, not until they at least know what this all means, not until they know what's actually happening to them.
Taking a deep breath, Klaus closes his eyes for a couple of seconds that actually feel like an eternity, his jaw clenching with barely controlled restrain.
Eventually, he seems to calm down, albeit only slightly, and reopens his gaze into Caroline's. It's as intense and as full of such a variety of complex emotions that neither of them can quite decipher yet as ever, and her breath catches in her throat.
"Never," he answers to her previous statement, his tone exuding a finality that should have her quiver in fear, but instead only makes her tremble even more in anticipation.
Their blue eyes stay fused for a moment more, and then he's gone before she can even blink.
Closing her eyes and sighing heavily, Caroline finally allows herself to relax, leaning against the cool wall behind her.
The ten hour car ride awaiting her tomorrow should be quite interesting.