Present Day – Mystic Falls, VA
They were at Klaus's mansion in a matter of minutes, away from the prying eyes of Elena and Bonnie and whoever else might stumble upon them. Klaus meant to let Kamila go the second they crossed the threshold, but his body had other ideas; even when they came to a full stop, he found he still had his arms firmly around her. He was embracing her.
In return, she wove her wiry arms around his sides and flattened her palms against his back, resting her chin on his shoulder and squeezing him tightly. "Well, I missed you too, cher. But you know how much I always hated that vampire-speed thing; it makes my stomach go all inside-out."
His hands moved to her shoulders suddenly, gripping them and pushing her to arm's length so he could look her over. "What kind of trick is this?" He demanded to know, "Who are you?"
"I know it's been a while, Niklaus," she said in that new, strange New Orleans accent, "But I can't believe you'd forget. It's me – Kamila."
"Kamila Parisi died," he interrupted her, voice a mix of anger and cautious optimism. "She died 186 years ago. TB." He let her go and took a step back, "And even if she'd somehow managed to survive, she was human; she'd be long dead by now. So once more, who are you?"
She chose her words carefully, knowing his shock and how it could quickly turn to a violent rage. Her eyes fluttered shut and she took in a deep breath, looking for a way to convince him. "You gave me a gift once," she said slowly, "A painting. You told me I must never show it to anyone, because it was a painting of your greatest secret and if anyone was ever to discover the meaning in it, you would lose everything. It was of a woman," her eyes were still closed, as if she were summoning the image on the backs of her eyelids, "A beautiful, older woman with pale blonde hair, dressed in all black with a veil over her eyes. She was sitting in a chair, looking down at a small child who was bowing at her feet. His hands were red.
"You gave it to me for my twenty-third birthday," she finally opened her eyes and took off her wide-brimmed sunhat, placing it on the arm of the couch. "And made me cast a spell on it so it looked like something different to anyone else who saw it. When I asked you what it meant, you told me that I was the only person in the world you'd ever told this secret to, even though you weren't actually telling me."
Klaus gasped, eyes glazing over as he fought back tears. He fell onto the couch, staring up at her in disbelief. "But how? Myra told me you'd died before she got to New Orleans. That witch!" He slammed his hand down on his coffee table, causing it to collapse in on itself. "That liar! I will hunt down all of her descendants and kill the lot of them; how dare she cross me? If I had known you'd survived-"
"You would've come back for me." Kamila swept her skirt under her and sat down next to him, putting a hand on his arm to calm him. He quickly covered her hand with his own and turned his head to look at her. "Niklaus, Mikael had already reached New Orleans by the time Myra got to me; he recognized her, knew she'd worked for you and Elijah in the past. When she finished healing me, he came to the institution and questioned both of us, threatened us and our families. He compelled us both, found out that you and I had spent the last five years together and he knew that I'd meant something to you, so he kept eyes on New Orleans.
"I told Myra to tell you that I was dead," she said softly, apologetic, "So you would never come back for me and risk getting caught by Mikael. And I never came looking for you because I thought one of his people might track me and you'd get caught. Then about a year ago, I heard that Mikael was finally dead, so I came back for you."
Klaus was breathing deeply, his hand growing tighter around hers. "I didn't need you to protect me."
"Aw, sugar," with her free hand, she reached up and pushed a curl out of his face, "Yes, you did. You always were a stubborn fool, and I wasn't gonna be the reason you got yourself killed."
He looked like he wanted to be angry, but he couldn't summon the emotion. Instead, he pulled her to him again and held her tightly to his chest, burying his face in the crook of her neck and breathing in the familiar smell of cinnamon and pears, a curious scent that came with her magick. "But how are you still twenty-five years old?" He breathed against her skin.
"I met another witch who'd been given Power by Nature, like me," Kamila hugged him back as tightly as he held her, murmuring the words into the soft fabric of his sweater. "She was three hundred; she taught me to channel the earth to stay whatever age I choose." Her strong, playful resolve chose that moment to break and she found herself crying against his shoulder, holding him tighter still. "Niklaus, I missed you so much."
That was twice in less than twenty-four hours that he'd found himself thinking "if only my enemies could see me now". He shouldn't be showing affection for this woman – he couldn't afford it. She would become his weakness – she would make him vulnerable to everyone that wanted to hurt him – and more than likely, she would be caught in the crossfire and killed. Still, he couldn't help himself. "I missed you, too," he told her, "You have no idea how much."
"Please tell me you've made at least one other real friend in the last 186 years," she gave a pitiful laugh through her tears.
"None that come to mind," he answered honestly.
"But you're in love."
"What?" He withdrew in surprise, looking her over. He laughed, trying to make it sound casual, but didn't quite pull it off. "What makes you say that?"
She shrugged, wiping at her eyes, "My Power's developed a lot over the years. I can sense things now." She gave him an indescribable look, "Then there's some things you don't need Power to sense; there are some things that the person who once knew you better than anyone can just look at you and know." She sniffled, then gave him a sly wink, "Who is she?"
"I don't want to talk about her, or anyone else in this town," he told her, reaching for the decanter on the end table. "I want to have a drink with my oldest friend, and find out what it is she wants from me?"
She took the glass he handed her, regarding him with a furrowed brow. "What makes you think I came because I want something? I missed you, Niklaus."
"I believe you," he insisted, pouring himself a drink. "But 'there are some things that the person who once knew you better than anyone can just look at you and know,' and I'm not as patient as I used to be. So let's just cut to the chase."
Kamila reached out, cupping the side of his face, "What's happened to you?"
"Too much to tell," he sighed. "I was a bad man when you knew me, Kamila, and believe me when I say that I have only gotten worse."
"Mm, Signore Bad Guy," she recalled, voice echoing as she drank from her glass. "But I still want to know, and I hope you'll tell me."
"First, you tell me why you've come. Mikael has been dead for over a year, so why now?"
She drew in a deep breath, sighed, and then surprised him by smiling, "Never could hide anything from you, could I?" She held out the glass for a refill and he obliged, then she made a request that made Klaus question his hearing. "I know about your hybrids, Niklaus – werewolves that die with your blood in them, and come back as both. I want you to turn me into one."
He drew back, eyes wide. "Why would you want that?"
She laughed, "Your pride and joy, and you're surprised when someone wants to be one."
"There are things you don't know about my hybrids," he told her, putting the decanter back on the table. "Besides that, there is another component to the transition – the blood of the doppelganger. And my charming sister destroyed the last of my supply out of spite."
Kamila drained her second glass of scotch and put the glass down on the floor, scooting a little closer and lowering her voice. "Are you telling me that you, Niklaus Mikaelson – master of the Plan B and Plan C and Plans D, E, and F – didn't stash a vial or two away somewhere for emergencies?"
He looked away, "I didn't quite have that foresight."
"You're lying," she said immediately. "Since when do we lie to each other."
"It's been almost two hundred years, Kamila," he still wouldn't look at her. "You can't expect me to be the same person you knew. I'll lie to you if it suits me, and I'll deny you whatever is mine to deny." He bit down on the inside of his cheek – a bad habit he'd been trying to break for centuries – and glanced at her. "Telling me truthfully, why would you want to be a hybrid?"
She leaned back against the couch, smoothing her hands over her long white skirt, "I don't, necessarily. I want to be a vampire." Klaus's eyebrows rose, but she continued before he could speak. "When you become a vampire, everything is amplified. Your personality, your emotions, your talents. If I become a vampire," she smiled, "Imagine what that will do for my Power."
He was already shaking his head, "You can't be both a vampire and a witch; Nature won't allow it."
"Ah, see," she held up a finger in contradiction, "You know that three hundred year old witch I was telling you about? She explained some things to me. When you're born with magick and you're turned into a vampire, it tips the balance of Nature, so Nature has to even it out. It strips away the Power and leaves an undead husk. But I wasn't born into magick; I was chosen and it was given to me. That alone tipped the balance, and it is no longer Nature's to be taken back." Her smile grew wider, "If I was turned, I would keep my Power, and it would be amplified."
Oddly enough, it made perfect sense to Klaus; he wondered why he'd never considered such a thing before. "And why do you need to amplify your Power?" He asked.
She suddenly became distant, reluctant to talk. She picked her glass up off the floor and said vaguely, "I have my reasons."
There was a long beat of silence between them. Finally, Klaus said, "Let's pretend that I do have a few vials of the doppelganger's blood hidden away: If I give you what you want, turn you, you will owe me some of that Power. You must be willing to help me in my endeavors."
"We always had an arrangement, Niklaus; I won't be caught up in your schemes."
"I don't give something for nothing; if I do this, your Power is tethered to me-"
"I will not be your dog!" She shouted, voice echoing around the room and causing the glass in the windows to crack but not shatter. It seemed that some of the anger of the werewolf gene had finally found its way to her. She jumped up and grabbed her hat from the arm of the couch, shoving it over her head so forcefully that it flattened her hair against her forehead. "You know the other appeal to being a hybrid? Living forever. With Mikael gone, we could have picked up where we left off. Remember the deal? We promised to see each other every day until we couldn't stand each other any more; I've wanted that life back for so long. But you just want to take advantage of my Power – something you swore you'd never do."
His jaw tightened as he watched her pace back and forth. "Well, as I said, Signorina Italiano," he said in a surprisingly calm voice, "I have changed."
"Fine," she barked. She reached into her purse and extracted a silver card, her name and phone number printed in white ink. She tossed it at him, "And for the record, it's Signora; I married ninety-seven years ago." She started toward the door, then stopped and turned around. "I know about the hunter's mark – I know that you're searching for the Cure, and trust me, you're biting off more than you can chew. You're going to need me, eventually. Something big is coming and I just might be the only hope you have." Then with stomping feet and a slamming door, she was gone.
Klaus picked up the card and smoothed it between his hands. Kamila Ross, it read, (504) 337-8102. He wanted to call her back almost immediately after she left, to tell her that he'd been a fool and of course he wouldn't demand anything of her, but he was too proud. Still, he entered her number into his phone and stared at it for a good long while before clearing the screen and tossing the phone on the broken coffee table.
He ran a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose; he needed a distraction. Distraction, distraction – what could he do? And then he remembered: There was a young hunter-in-training that needed a few more vampire kills under his belt. Perhaps he could be of some assistance with that. He stood, slid his phone into his back pocket, and started for the Gilbert family lake house.
Kamila, on the other hand, didn't go far. She collected her bags from the old pickup she'd driven in to town and gave three sharp knocks to a heavy oak door. It swung open after a moment, revealing a handsome man she knew only from photographs and rumors. She gave no indication that she knew him, however. "Hey," she said with a bright smile, turning up the southern charm, "This is the boarding house, right? The Salvatore boarding house?"
"Um, yeah," the vampire that stood in the threshold answered, glancing over his shoulder, "But we're, um-"
"Temporarily booked up for a supernatural convention?" His eyes narrowed in confusion. Just then, a young blonde woman flounced down the stairs behind him and took one look at her, stopping cold in her tracks.
"I know you," she said, her voice carrying a hard English accent. Her face was twisted in confusion, and she took a few steps closer to the door. "My brother's drawn you before. When he undaggered me, just before the civil war, he drew you all the time. Who are you?"
"Ah, so you're the infamous Rebekah," Kamila smiled and extended a hand. "I'm Kamila Ross, an old, old friend of Niklaus's, and I'm in need of a room."
"Listen, I don't know what Klaus is up to," Stefan Salvatore said with a tired sigh, "But I'm not in the mood for any more of his games."
Kamila pulled her hand back and frowned. "I said old friend, not old cohort; Klaus's business with y'all has nothing to do with me. I just need a favor from that stubborn old man and a place to stay until he makes up his mind." No one said anything for a long time, so she added, "I can pay you double what any of the room and board would have normally cost. Triple, if that'll help clinch it." She reached into her purse and pulled out a roll of money, thrusting it into Stefan's hand, "There's about six hundred dollars there, and I can always get more."
He looked over his shoulder at Rebekah, who was still looking the woman over like she had three heads. "I don't know," he said slowly.
"I'm human, all right?" Kamila sighed, starting to feel exhausted. "Granted I'm a werewolf and a witch, but I'm human all the same. I gotta eat, I gotta sleep, I gotta take a shower every once and a while. I'm not interested in whatever politics y'all have got going on here," she promised, "I just wanna stay with some folks that aren't likely to put a silver bullet through my heart while I'm sleeping."
Stefan looked down at the wad of cash – something he didn't really need, to be honest – and back at the woman. She had honest eyes, and she definitely wasn't like any of the other lackeys Klaus had sent after them in the past. "All right," he finally said, albeit reluctantly, "Up the stairs, take a left, fourth door on your right. But if you cause any trouble," his voice grew low and dangerous, "I'll deliver that silver bullet personally."
"I'm sure you will, cher," Kamila agreed, hardly bothered. She picked up her suitcase and squeezed past him, pinching his cheek as she went. "I'm sure you will." She twirled in a circle, taking in the size and décor of the place with a look of approval, "Very nice. Oh, and I'm afraid I need to ask y'all one small favor."
"Oh," Rebekah scoffed, arms crossed over her chest, "And what might that be?"
Kamila lifted one hand in a closed fist, and when she opened it there was a pop and a bright flash of pale blue light that sent both vampires stumbling back and rubbing at their eyes. "You won't tell anyone that I'm staying here."
Rebekah and Stefan both straightened their backs and looked past her, almost as if she were invisible. "We won't tell anyone that you're staying here."
"Thank you kindly," she said with a little curtsy, then hurried up the stairs before they came out of their spelled stupor. She needed Klaus to think she was far away – absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that. While the events she'd foreseen began unfolding in Mystic Falls, she would be right under his nose to witness it all, and when he finally needed her, she would be there.
A/N:
So a little mix of Old Klaus and New Klaus - I tried to weave in my own characterstics of him and still keep him somewhat in-character. What did you think?
Also, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a great editor, so please bear with me. :)
Also also, I really hope that phone number isn't someone's real phone number in New Orleans. If it is, I'M SORRY!