Here it is, darlings! The next revamped chapter of Too Many Words. I hope you enjoy it. I also found a song that epitomizes this chapter.
- imaginationismymuse
Shattered
- Trading Yesterday
Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding
Fall into your sunlight
The future's open wide, beyond believing
To know why, hope dies
Losing what was found, a world so hollow
Suspended in a compromise
The silence of this sound is soon to follow
Somehow, sundown
And finding answers
Is forgetting all of the questions we called home
Passing the graves of the unknown
As reason clouds my eyes, with splendor fading
Illusions of the sunlight
And a reflection of a lie will keep me waiting
With love gone, for so long
And this day's ending
Is the proof of time killing all the faith I know
Knowing that faith is all I hold
And I've lost who I am and I can't understand
Why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love
Without love gone wrong, lifeless words carry on
But I know, all I know, is that the end's beginning
Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart
Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent
All this time spent in vain, wasted years, wasted gain
All is lost, hope remains, and this war's not over
There's a light, there's the sun, taking all shattered ones
To the place we belong, and his love will conquer all [x2]
Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding
Fall into your sunlight
Part three
Her fingers were grey, tiny veins protruded down to her wrist. Katherine stared at them in horror, trying to calm the breaths that heaved between gritted teeth. It took too much effort to breathe and she needed to conserve her energy, needed to feed. She needed to be free.
It was a funny thing actually. The person who craved freedom the most always ended up in the lion's den. Even as a naïve human all those years ago, she'd longed for freedom, for the chance to decide her own fate. It was that longing that drove her into the arms of a man. That led her to keep her child. That drove her to run from Klaus, to turn herself into a creature that couldn't be controlled. It was all rooted in that one desire to be free.
It was pathetic now that she thought about it, and she did. Incarceration did that to a person. She had nothing but time to think and stew about her past, about mistakes she'd made. It was a consuming process. There'd been so many that, even if she was gifted with another five-hundred years, she'd never be able to fix them all.
Five-hundred years wasn't even enough time to fix the ones she wanted to.
The door swung open, pulling her from her thoughts. Katherine cringed when Marcel stepped into the room, that same kind smile on his face, that same blade flashing in his hands. He didn't switch the light on, leaving the room dark. Katherine thanked him for this small mercy. She was sure she looked as weak as she felt; she didn't need him to see it too.
"Morning, sunshine, and how are we feeling today?"
She glared daggers at him but said nothing. There was no use in a snapping response that would only serve to amuse him. Katherine would see him to hell for what he'd done to her, for what he'd made her become, or rather for what he'd made her realize.
"So, Katherine, I'm curious," he continued conversationally. "How does it feel to know they don't care about you? That they aren't searching for you? How does it feel to be abandoned?"
His question was a cruel one and she felt every inch of that cruelty slice through her. "S-screw you," she got out.
"Hit a nerve, did I?" When she didn't reply, he wound his hand around her throat and squeezed, making her choke. Black spots dotted in front of her eyes. "I said, hit a nerve, didn't I?"
How she hated him. "Y-yes."
He released her, resuming that friendly mask. "That's better. I don't understand why you have to be so difficult."
Marcel flipped the switch and the bulb sprang to life, making Katherine blinked as the sudden light assaulted her eyes. Marcel examined her. It was a sad sight, a far cry from the woman he'd glimpsed fifty years ago. That woman was eye-catching and vibrant. Memorable even though all he'd had was a fleeting glance.
This one was not. She was slumped against the chair, barely enough energy to hold herself up. There were remnants of blood caked on her cheek, purpling bruises on her neck. Her eyes were hateful and bitter and dull, lackluster hair lying flat against her scalp. She was a shadow of the woman he'd brought in here. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
"You look awful, Katherine."
"T-thanks," she muttered.
Marcel circled her and if she could've, she would've squirmed under his scrutiny. "You're desiccating faster than I anticipated." He flicked open her shackles, ignoring her hiss as the vervain tore at her raw wrists. "Stand for me."
She made no attempt to move, hoping he didn't pick up her rapid heartbeat at his request, a request she wasn't sure she could carry out. His hand gripped her chin, forcing her to stare into unyielding brown eyes.
"I said, stand, Katherine," he told her coldly, reminding her of Klaus. "Don't make me tell you again."
Swallowing hard, Katherine, using her forearms since her fingers were useless, slowly, painfully pushed herself to her feet. It wasn't for long. Her legs shook, body trembling, and she collapsed onto the dust-covered ground, coughing weakly.
"I c-can't," she rasped, turning pleading eyes to him.
Marcel just grinned, like this was a game. "Stand up, Katherine."
"C-can't," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes at her uselessness.
"I don't think you're trying hard enough." Marcel bent over and gripped her arm, yanking her to her feet. Katherine let out a whimper as her shoulder was torn from its socket. "Now stand."
It was excruciating for Katherine but she locked her muscles, forcing herself to remain upright. She would give him no reason to hurt her even though every inch of her body screamed in protest. Her breath came out in thin gasps between clenched teeth.
"Now walk towards me," Marcel ordered.
She shook her head slowly. "C-can't."
"That wasn't a question, Katherine," he barked. "I said, walk."
Glaring at him, she lifted one leg. Her other leg shook uncontrollably and she went down, hitting the ground with an uncomfortable thud and a pained cry. She lifted her head, wet eyes cutting into him. Did he have to humiliate her like this? Did he have to make her so aware of her helplessness, of her weakness?
"S-stop," she pleaded brokenly, staring at dust-coated fingers. "P-please."
Marcel smiled. "I thought you wanted your free–"
A commotion from beyond the room cut him off. There was a series of yelling, the snapping of bones, the vibrations as bodies hit the hard, unyielding ground. Marcel tensed and he was behind her in a second, hauling her up against him, arm slinging around her throat, her back pressed against his chest. Katherine's eyes locked on the door but she didn't dare hope that whoever it was, was here for her. She wouldn't be able to handle that disappointment.
It went quiet and a set of calm, calculated strides rung out. A shadow beckoned from beneath the door. She held her breath. The door was kicked down and there, silhouetted by the lights coming from the other room, stood Elijah.
Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes, those mesmerizing, intense eyes, met hers. And with that single look he took her breath away, made her heartbeat race, and her skin flushed with heat. All the hatred, the uncertainty, the anger evaporated into meaninglessness and she was just left with a sense of relief, a sense of unwavering happiness.
He'd come for her, for her.
Elijah was close to snapping, close to losing the control he so prided himself in. The moment he laid eyes on her the need to rip Marcel's heart out grew to a roaring. It echoed through his head. His Katerina looked so fragile held up against Marcel's muscled body. Her skin pale from lack of feeding, desiccation eating away at her. There was crimson staining her top, the sound of her short, laboured breaths, and the worst crime of all, the tears in her coffee-brown eyes. A sin he could never forgive himself for. He had failed her.
"Elijah," Marcel greeted him amiably, lips brushing Katherine's ear, making her tremble. Elijah's eyes narrowed. "My least favourite Original."
"Marcellus," he greeted the younger vampire in that cool, even voice of his.
"I must admit, I'm surprised," Marcel admitted. "I'd become convinced you were going to leave the beautiful Miss Katherine here in my care."
Elijah slipped his hands into his pockets. "Then I'm afraid it's going to be a disappointing morning for you, Marcellus."
"It seems that way, doesn't it?" Marcel agreed, adjusting the arm around Katherine's throat.
That adjustment was the greatest mistake he ever made. That subtle movement in an effort to appear relaxed brought his arm closer to Katherine's mouth. Using the last vestiges of her strength, Katherine reared her head back, fangs bursting through, and sunk them into Marcel's wrist before he could even comprehend his error. That first long draw was all she needed. Energy flooded through her and for the first time since she'd been captured, a real smile curved her lips.
The room, Elijah, everything faded into the background. Revenge was the only thing on her mind. For the humiliation. For the weakness. For all of it, she would damn well have her revenge.
Releasing his wrist, Katherine ground her heel into Marcel's foot. There was a snap as she broke it and he released her. Lifting her elbow, she drove it into his ribs, cracking most of them with the force of her blow. Adrenaline shot through her system as he buckled over, gasping, blood pouring from his mouth. She smirked, lips stained from his blood. It seemed she'd managed to puncture a lung.
Grabbing his shoulders, Katherine let her lips brush his ear as he had done to her. "You were right, Marcel," she whispered. "I am a monster."
Her knee connected with his face, sending him sprawling onto the floor behind him. He lay there, groaning, blood pooling on the floor from his broken nose. It was an immensely satisfying sight. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, she took a moment to wipe the excess blood from her mouth onto the sleeve of her leather jacket. Elijah brushed passed her to kneel beside the near unconscious figure. Grasping his shoulder, Elijah tossed him against the wall and pinned them there with a single hand to Marcel's chest, inciting another groan from its occupant as the movements jarred his healing ribs.
"Your cooperation was much appreciated, Marcellus," he said in that smooth voice of his.
Marcel smiled a bloody smile. "Do I get a prize?" he lisped through his healing teeth.
"Your reward is your life. Mark my words though, Marcellus. Should you come near Katerina again, I will not be so merciful. Is that clear?"
"Crystal."
Elijah snapped Marcel's neck, letting his body drop to the floor like a lead ball. He took a second to straighten his suit jacket before turning to face her. Katherine swayed unsteadily on her feet. Her energy high gone as quickly as it had come. One mouthful of blood was never going to sustain her for long. Now she fought the waves of dizziness with all she had. She would not pass out, not in front of Elijah.
"Katerina," he said her name like a pray, extending his hand. "Shall we go?"
Katherine ignored his hand and began moving towards the door, limbs trembling at the effort to keep herself upright. She reached it after what seemed like an age and sagged heavily against its frame, struggling to regain her breath. Damn her body. She felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced up to find Elijah staring down at her, rarely shown concern evident across his face. That concern almost broke her, she wanted him so badly.
"I'm fine," she spat through gritted teeth.
Elijah removed his hand. His stoic mask dropped back into place. "I apologize."
Refusing to feel guilty, Katherine pushed off from the doorframe and attempted to take another step. Her heel caught in a groove on the floor and she didn't have the strength to catch herself. Elijah's hand gripped her shoulder once again, holding her up. Katherine allowed him to this time. She had no choice. She needed him.
"I need help," she admitted.
It was the first time she had ever uttered those words in his presence, had ever fully acknowledged that she needed him, had ever admitted to being weak. Elijah blinked for a moment then slid his arm around her waist. His fingers were gentle, brushing against the skin where her top had ridden over her hipbone. That simple touch set her skin on fire.
"Lean on me," he instructed.
And with only the briefest hesitation, she did. Elijah's heart soared.
Katherine lifted a pale hand to cover her eyes as she stepped out into the harsh sunlight. Elijah's eyes traced the raw, red burn marks on her wrist. He followed the line of her leather-clad arm to her throat, still decorated with small, oval bruises. Fingerprints, he realized with considerable anger. Her top, speckled with crimson, should have clung to her form but it hung loosely on her. A testament to what she'd been through. Elijah's fingernails dug into the palm of his free hand. She shouldn't have been put through this. He should have protected her.
"You came." Her voice, like music, pulled him from his thoughts.
He glanced down at her and swallowed hard. Her face, though hollow and smudged with blood, still mesmerized him. There was uncertainty in her sunken eyes and he realized, with a stab of hurt, that she'd thought he would leave her, abandon her to a lifetime as Marcel's chew toy.
"You doubted I would." He said it as accusation.
She stared ahead of her, lips set in a thin line. "You've left me before."
"Never when you've needed me, Katerina."
Katherine snorted. "Liar."
"How so?" he challenged.
Pulling away, she faced him. Eyes incredulous, mouth parted slightly in disbelief. "You think I didn't need you back in Mystic Falls?"
"You wanted me to act as a buffer between you and my brother," he replied stiffly. "I don't quantify that as needing me, Katerina."
Hurt blossomed like spring across her features before she banished it, lifting her chin to absorb the weight of his accusation. "You've been alive for a thousand years, Elijah. It's time you got your head out of your ass."
Elijah lifted Katerina into his arms, cradling her sleeping form against his chest. Exhaustion had won on the drive home. To be honest, he'd welcomed it. Anything to cease the accusations that hung between them like fairy lights. He'd told himself he was justified with his accusation. She had been using him as a wall between herself and his brother. She had used his feelings for her. His anger was natural, just. So why did he feel like he should be the one apologizing?
Looking down at her now, sleeping so peacefully in his arms, he found it hard to muster that anger he'd thought so natural. When Katerina slept, she transformed. When she slept, she was just a woman, not a vampire, not broken, not manipulative. Just a woman. It made him want to reach out, to run his fingers down her cheek and watch her lean into his touch. It made him want what he'd thought they'd had in those briefs moments during the search for the cure.
There was something was different about her. Something had happened, something that went beyond this incident with Marcellus. He had seen it, the shadow in her usually fiery eyes. She was tired. Her edges were worn, fraying seams. He had suspected this long before that such a life as she had would eventually become too much to bear but she had never allowed him to see even the merest hints. Now it was all too clear. He had wanted to ask what had caused this break in her mask but then they'd fought and the opportunity had been lost. He sighed as she shifted closer, tucking her head under his chin. Would they ever not fight?
"Brother," Klaus greeted him as he stepped through the front door. "I see you broke your word."
Elijah met his brother's unsurprised stare. "You knew I would."
"Of course, you were never able to resist Katerina's lure. It's pathetic, really, how you chase after her with stars in your eyes."
"When you find something to live for besides yourself, Niklaus, then we may have this discussion," Elijah told him evenly, starting forward.
"And when we do, I shall say the same thing." Klaus caught his brother's shoulder as he passed by. "It's not loving someone that makes you pitiful, brother. It's who you love that makes it so."
"You think I chose to love her," Elijah said bitterly. "Loving her is a curse. One I wish I knew how to break."
"Loving her is a curse. One I wish I knew how to break."
His words played through her head like a video tape stuck on record. Did he mean that?
Of course he did, you stupid girl. Elijah doesn't say things he doesn't mean.
Oh, God.
Yeah, you fucked this one up, cupcake. Big time.
"Shut up," she mumbled.
It's the truth.
Her eyes flew open. "I said shut up!"
Fine but don't say I didn't tell you.
Katherine curled into a ball, ignoring the tug of needle in her arm (placed there by Elijah to feed her blood intravenously). Tears rolled down her face as she tried to quell her sobs. It was hard when everything inside of her felt like it was shattering.
"Loving her is a curse. One I wish I knew how to break."
She was a curse to him. Her love was a curse to the only man she'd ever given it to. She gasped out, arms hugging herself. Her heart hurt. All the little pieces that glistened on the floor hurt. It infuriated her. This was the third time she'd cried for Elijah. She'd let a tear slip for him when she'd run that night five-hundred years ago. She'd let a few more fall when he'd left her to come here. Now she sobbed for the love she'd cursed him with. I told you so, the voice in her head piped up.
Two large hands seized her shoulders, shoving her against the headboard. "Katerina, if you don't stop your –" Klaus paused as he took her in. The drenched cheeks. The agonized eyes. "Oh, love, what happened?"
"As if you care," she snarled.
He shrugged, releasing her shoulders. "Your pain does bring me a certain amount of satisfaction," he confessed. "Your tears, however. They merely serve to annoy me."
Her chin jutted out, a silent dare. "Then kill me. You're going to do it anyway. Just kill me and get it over with."
"Don't tempt me, love." His voice was so cold, so serious that she cowered against the headboard. He smirked. "I've granted you a reprieve. You did, after all, save the life of the woman carrying my child."
"I didn't do it for you."
Klaus tilted his head, studying her. "Then what did you do it for? Don't say out of the goodness of your heart. You and I both know you don't have one."
Monster, Marcel's voice echoed through her head and she swallowed. "I remembered what it was like. To be a possession of the Mikaelson family. I remembered what it did to me."
Klaus looked thoughtful; that was an unexpected answer. "And what did it do to you?"
"Why are you even here, Klaus?"
"Well, Katerina, it's quite simple." She winced when he said her name. "Your pitiful sobbing makes it impossible for me to rest."
"Blame your brother," she mumbled.
"And what has he done now?" Klaus asked, obviously amused. "Did he wear the wrong colour tie to go with your blood-stained outfit?"
"He thinks loving me is a curse," she whispered, more to herself than him.
Klaus' eyebrows raised. "You're crying because he hurt your feelings. How exceedingly un-Katherine of you."
"Maybe I don't have any Katherine left in me." Her eyes met his; worn and dull. "Maybe I'm tired. Five-hundred years is a long time to be strong."
"You haven't been strong, Katerina," Klaus said with some amusement. "You've been cowardly. I've chased you for half a century and sacrificing yourself for Hayley is the only strong thing I've seen you do."
"You have no idea what you're talking about," she hissed. How dare he undermine her. "No idea what it's like running from you."
"On the contrary, sweetheart, I've been running from myself for as long as I can remember."
Katherine merely arched an eyebrow. "Are you calling yourself a coward, Klaus?"
"Since I'm feeling charitable, I won't punish you for your impertinence. I'll even let you in on a little secret." He brought his face inches from hers and she held her breath. "It's easy to wear a mask, love. What's hard is taking it off."
Well, what do you think? I knew we needed a little Klaus-Katherine scene and I wanted it to be something other than the usual violence they're depicted with.
