Chapter Six – November 1950

The first few chords came reluctantly, a little too loud and not perfectly timed, then the memories slowly returned into his fingers. The sound made him smile – for a moment, the house didn't seem so gloomy and empty and he could almost picture little Rebekah crawling over the floor again, her favourite doll in tow; Niklaus outside the window with dirty clothes, hardly eleven years old, kicking a muddy ball around the garden.

He breathed in deeply and listened to the soft melody, allowing the familiar sound to conjure up the memories of simpler days for a moment.

Rebekah sat down next to him on the piano bench, a surprised smile on her lips. "You haven't played in ages."

"For seven years," came their brother's voice from behind them. Niklaus leaned in the doorway, arms crossed and a faint smirk playing around his lips. "Since the war. I wonder what changed now."

Elijah grimaced; their little sister laughed and shook her head at Niklaus.

"True. But then again, Nik, you of all people should keep your mouth well shut."

He grinned and shrugged her comment off. "Speaking of which, I'm running late, I should be off."

Elijah raised a brow at his younger brother. "Today? Mother might just throw a fit-"

"And I couldn't care less if she did, Elijah," he replied calmly.

Glaringly obvious as his brother had been – kissing Caroline in plain sight, Niklaus really was more subtle than ever – it hadn't taken his mother very long to grow aware of her son's doings. And when she had, the ever-present tension between mother and son had shorted out; the house had been filled with yelling for hours. Mostly Esther's yelling; Niklaus had remained remarkably calm. He had just sat there, a glass of scotch in his hand and insisted they were both of age and his mother had no influence whatsoever on what they were doing, with whom and why.

Only when she had announced she would have a word with Caroline about all this, Niklaus had started to raise his voice.

It had ended with another thirty minutes of yelling, a spilled glass of scotch, a shattered vase and his mother in the worst mood she'd been in for years; but as far as Elijah knew, she had indeed not spoken a word to Caroline about the whole affair.

He himself was putting quite some effort in being a little more subtle – well, he had to, since his little brother's best argument didn't apply in his case. Though she seemed far older most of the time, Katerina was seventeen and antiquated as this small town was, all hell would break lose around them if whatever it was they had came to light, especially because she was a student at his mother's school. Good Lord, he could hear them already – nine years younger, and no intention to marry her, could you imagine?

He didn't care, but he had seen how his mother had reacted to Niklaus's and Caroline's relationship and Caroline at least was of age. He could about fathom what a strain it would put on their family's bond if she was to find out about his secret, too.

All that secrecy would not really have bothered him – only it limited the little time they had even more. He still spent most of the week in London; their weekends were short and under tragically close surveillance by his mother.

But however dissatisfying their situation was, he couldn't remember ever feeling this happy, this alive. Perhaps he had been before the war, but somehow those memories had faded so much he could hardly recall them though they only were six or seven years old. Or maybe he really had never felt this way. He couldn't tell and it didn't matter.

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~ö~ö~ö~

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He shuddered and pulled his hat deeper into his face. His breath conjured thick white clouds into the crisp evening air. It was freezing, but he couldn't have stomached being inside for another minute. Since Kol had returned to school the previous day, his mother's mood had hit zero once more. She felt like she'd lost all of her men, him and Kol to their respective schools and Finn, Niklaus and her husband to the war.

"You're the only one I have left," she liked to tell her daughter demonstratively, usually followed by a reproachful look in his direction and a comment along the lines of "since your brothers are never here".

"Just now, mother, I am right here," he had answered this morning, not quite able to keep the anger out of his voice. Niklaus had witnessed the whole scene with a stony expression and his lack of reaction had enraged Elijah even more – was he the only one who cared that she acted as if Niklaus too, had died during the war, as if he'd never returned home from battle?

Now his mother had left with Rebekah to visit an aunt in Bristol overnight, Niklaus had disappeared to God knew where around lunch and hadn't returned since. Elijah had fled the devastating emptiness of the house he'd grown up in. He couldn't stand to remember how happy they'd been, couldn't stand to realise for how long they weren't anymore. Since his father was dead, Finn was gone and his mother paralysed by bitterness, he as the oldest brother was the one in charge; and until now, he had failed spectacularly – a tragedy this morning had reminded him of a little too much for his liking.

It pained him to watch his family fall apart like that and he hated having to take a side – in his case, siding with Niklaus, against his mother who rather pretended he was dead than face what her son had done, and against their youngest brother who resented Niklaus for what had happened to their father.

Elijah sighed and pushed his hands deeper down his pockets. The cold night air that filled his lungs was starting to calm him a little. His thoughts returned to more pleasant things – mostly to a handful of precious careless hours he'd spent with Katerina the previous day – and a small, rueful smile crept on his lips. He would have to make do with those memories all week…

By the time he had reached the edge of the wood, he was deep in thought; so when he heard soft footsteps in the snow, he gave a start, feeling positively guilty. Perhaps his brother was right – he really was very lucky he had survived the war at all, vigilant soldier that he was.

He spotted a familiar figure on the path that led to the school, grinned and quickened his steps. In the fading light, it took him a moment to understand what looked so strange about her appearance –

"Dear Lord, what happened to you?"

She was soaking wet, stray curls had fought their way out of her tight bun, shining jet black; her coat clung to her like a second skin and anyway it was so thin that she couldn't have possibly felt warm in the first place. She'd wrapped her arms tightly around herself in a futile attempt to keep herself warm, her lips looked blue and she was shaking.

Katerina avoided his eyes and replied irritably: "My own stupidity, that's all."

He shook his head at her and hurriedly took off his own coat and held it out to her.

"Oh please, that's really not necessary," she protested, looking positively alarmed.

He almost laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. Perhaps another two hours and you'll have frozen to death."

She glared back at him defiantly, then seemed to understand he wasn't going to let it go and wrapped herself up in the heavy woollen coat. "Thank you," she muttered, staring at her feet.

He tried his best to ignore the biting cold and put an arm around her shoulder, directing her back towards the house.

"You have to get inside," he said, shaking his head at the young woman. "What are you even doing here?"

Katerina shrugged, pulling his coat tighter around herself. "Your mother ordered new dancing shoes for Caroline, I'm supposed to fetch them." She laughed, shaking her head. "I didn't see the ice on the Wickery Bridge and slipped."

Elijah remembered how they'd played on the small bridge as children – when Rebekah was five, she'd fallen into the river and if it hadn't been for Niklaus she would have surely drowned.

"It's very easy to fall from that bridge," he muttered.

Katerina laughed weakly. "Maybe, but still bloody stupid."

He pulled her closer, watching her anxiously – she looked like she really was about to freeze to death.

"Come on," he murmured, reaching for his key – which obviously wasn't there, since it was right where it belonged in his coat pocket.

Cursing under his breath, he quickened his steps, dragging her with him, and gently reached for the key in her pocket. She shivered, though he couldn't tell whether it was because of the cold or because he couldn't really avoid touching her.

She was deadly pale and now her lips were really blue; it was dreadfully cold. He fumbled with the lock for a moment and pulled her inside.

"This way." Suddenly he regretted his constant caution – he wished he'd left the fire burning. While she sank down on the couch, hugging her knees tightly, he busied himself at the fireplace. When the fire finally sprang to life, he got to his feet an announced quietly: "Wait a minute, I'll find you something dry to wear-"

"Now you're overdoing…"

He'd left the room before she could finish, ignoring her completely.

When he returned with a stack of his sister's clothes, she was kneeling in front of the fireplace, looking a little less like an ice statue. "Thank you, Elijah, but I really can't… what if I ruin them?"

"You'd probably do my sister a favour, my mother bought her those clothes and she despises them," he replied drily and handed her the clothes, smiling a little. "I'll make a tea, would you like a cup?"

"Is that a joke?" she asked with a faint laugh. "I might need a few litres to defrost."

"Back in a moment," he replied softly. "You'll want to change your clothes, Katerina. Honestly, you'll catch your death."

.

When he came back with the tea, she still sat in front of the fireplace. Rebekah's pullover was slightly too big for her and for the first time, he thought she looked very fragile. She'd let down her hair and now it framed her pale face in tight curls, still damp; her clothes hung over a chair near the fire.

She looked up and smiled.

"What do I tell Miss Fleming if she asks where I've been all the time?"

He raised a brow at her. "How about the truth?"

Katerina laughed and took a cup of tea from him. "What, that you asked me inside and we had a tea while my clothes hung over a chair? Sounds like a splendid idea."

Elijah grinned and took a sip of his tea. "You make it sound quite a lot worse than it actually is."

"Well, that's how it will sound to everybody else," she replied, still smirking, and clutched her teacup. "What about your mother, where is she?"

"She went to visit my father's sister in Bristol, dragged Rebekah along," he answered. "Bekah wasn't too happy about it. Niklaus should be somewhere here, but… God knows where he went."

Katerina raised a brow at him. "I think we can both hazard an educated guess, right?"

"Caroline," he muttered, shaking his head. "Is she doing alright? Mother isn't… very pleased with her at the moment, and I know what that is like."

"Care's fine. I think she's enjoying it, in a way," she replied with a little grin. "Her little rebellion."

"Is that what it is to her? A rebellion?"

Katerina chuckled and shook her head at him. "Hold your horses, there is no one less likely to break your brother's heart than Caroline Forbes. She likes him, really, to a point where I can't… no offence, but sometimes I think you two must have seen something in Klaus that I won't ever see."

Elijah stared into his cup and caught himself asking himself the same stupid question that had made him laugh at many of his friends… where had this person been all his life?

"Maybe we do. Or maybe I just still see my little brother whom I've grown up with, I don't know."

She gently blew on the tea and looked up at him over the edge of the pearly white china, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. God, she was beautiful…

He couldn't suppress a small smile. As miserable as she must have been feeling a moment ago, he couldn't help being immensely grateful for her little mishap – he hadn't been expecting to see her before the next weekend or, even worse, the one after that.

He watched her, putting his cup down slowly, scared he'd spill the tea all over his mother's precious carpet.

"Why are you smiling like that, is there… something in my face?" Katerina asked with an insecure little smile.

Her reaction took him by surprise. "Oh no, by no means. Quite the contrary," he replied, shaking his head at her. "I'm just…" He cleared his throat. "Are you cold?"

"Much better, thanks," she muttered, smiling up at him. "I don't think I've ever had such expensive tea in my life."

He laughed. "I am truly sorry that my mother's posh tea is all I can offer you."

"It's not that bad, and it's warm," she replied with a faint smile. He liked that about her – that disdain towards aristocracy, towards wealth, old money, antiquated morals and codes of ethics. Even though that meant that everything he had to impress a woman wasn't worth a penny in her case.

She finished her cup. "I've got to get back-"

He couldn't help a smile at her words. He caught a wisp of soft dark hair between his fingers. "Still damp, you're not going anywhere."

"You don't intend to lock me up in here, do you?" she gave back with a grin, brown eyes sparkling at him, holding him.

"I have better ways to keep you here," he replied quietly and buried his fingers deeper in her hair.

Her lips curved into a softer smile. "You probably have."

Still smiling, he crossed the last few inches left between them and kissed her.

As she placed a hand on his neck to pull him closer, her fingers touched the bruises on his skin, just for a second, but the sudden pain was enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

She traced the greenish marks with her finger, shock etched onto her pretty features. It was remarkable she had seen them at all, just this morning he had, not without relief, found they had almost faded. It was annoying him to hide them, moreover, they were a constant source of guilt for Niklaus who had secluded himself even more since it had happened.

"He tried to kill you," she whispered, and he wanted to shake his head, to protest; but the evidence was fairly obvious: in his right mind or not, had it not been for Rebekah, the pressure of his brother's fingers would have strangled him.

"It was an accident," he said softly and closed his hand around hers, gently pulling it away. "Besides, had I had the nerve to defend myself a little more, it would have never happened."

"You didn't defend yourself?" she repeated, her brown eyes shimmering just a little too much in the light of the fire. "Do you have no survival instinct at all?"

"It takes an immense lot of effort to hurt my brother. I feel like father when I do, and I just keep seeing him how he came to me afterwards, black and blue all over, crying. I said I would protect him. You should have seen him then, Katerina – he was a sweet kid. Full of life and eager to learn, with a good heart and brave as any child could be. Even when father picked on him more than on the rest of us put together, he was never hateful, he fought and thrived for our father to love him. Rebekah idolised him, did everything for him. Secretly, I admit, they were always my favourite siblings. Finn… well, I don't know, I never had much of a connection to him, maybe we were too many years apart, maybe I just never really understood him; and Kol, he was always wild and careless. But Niklaus and Bekah… they were the most wonderful of children, and by rights they should have grown to be outstanding, great people. Instead, our father and this… this tragic, spiteful world made them into a paranoid man with absolutely psychopathic tendencies and a foolish girl so desperate for love and attention that she would blindly throw herself into the arms of anyone who would promise her a home." He shook his head, putting a smile on his lips while he fought back the stinging in his eyes. "And once again, I have burdened you with a scene from this family's tragedy that has no meaning to you. I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes, a fake smile of her own on her lips. "I thought I made myself clear the last twenty times," she muttered and, very pointedly avoiding the bruises, pulled him closer again. "Stop. Apologising."

The answer died on his lips. Something had changed in those kisses, there was something desperate about them now, some kind of longing that he hadn't felt in years, not like that. But he was holding back, scared to break this fragile girl that for some reason seemed to be just as broken as he was. If he hadn't noticed before then he did now. There was that hunger in her, too, just below the surface; but she was scared to let go, maybe even more than he was. And he couldn't help wondering what might have happened to her - a girl this young that had spent most of her childhood in the secure, lonely environment of his mother's school - that could spark such deep-seated fear.

He caught her hands in his and sought her gaze. "The control is all yours, you know? My fate in your hands."

"Good," she replied with a grin, but he thought he spotted a glimpse of relief in her brown eyes, which confirmed his theories further – and fed that diffuse anger they had sowed in him. Though the moment her lips were back on his they were forgotten, just like most other thing on his mind (which was probably what made this so addictive).

How they ended up in his room, he couldn't actually tell, all he knew was that her curls were long dry and it was long since dark when he could finally bring himself to utter the words "you really need to get back".

She laughed, her breath tickled his skin. "Oh God, what do I tell them?"

He grimaced and got up with a sigh. "Not the truth."

"Oh, that's helpful," she gave back and combed through her hair with her fingers.

"Say you got lost in the forest."

"Right," she scoffed. "The forest isn't big enough to lose myself in for, what, two hours? Three? They'll know there's something going on."

"Well, Caroline knows anyway, so does my sister…"

"Yes, but Bonnie doesn't," she replied. "And Bonnie can't know, because she just can't keep a secret."

"She will find out eventually, Katerina," he answered softly.

"So will your mother."

"Yes, she will," he muttered, running both hands through his hair. "May God have mercy on my soul."

He watched her as she put on her uniform and pulled her hair back into the bun it had been in this afternoon, then grabbed something from his bedside table and got to his feet.

"I feel a tramp for saying that now, but, um, goodbye."

He was amazed how quickly she went back to being almost shy around him – when there could have been absolutely no talk of shyness minutes ago. "Well that feeling is completely misplaced. And I'll take you back, so there's no saying goodbye."

"No, don't, really, you've-"

He placed finger on her lips. "There is no discussing this."

She sighed. "Very well. If you really have nothing better to do."

"I absolutely don't. And I will force you to wear my coat and if it's the last thing I do."

Katerina groaned, shaking her head at him. "Don't you think you've done enough?"

"No."

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~ö~ö~ö~

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The forest was pitch-black and the night air bitterly cold, but he felt warm, and somehow deeply peaceful, a feeling that had grown strange to him. Her fingers were loosely intertwined with his and he thought he would like to remain in this moment forever – just the two of them and the quiet of the forest, the patches of snow below their soles and a glimpse of the stars above.

When they reached the edge of the forest, he stopped and let go of her hand.

"Well then, goodbye," she said softly, a smile playing around her lips.

"Wait, I," he reached down his pocket and pulled out the book, "I almost forgot."

She laughed when she realised what he was holding, gripped him by the jacket and kissed him. "Will you be home next weekend?"

"I'll try," he muttered and pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "You need to go. And, Katerina-"

"Hm?"

"Should my mother give you a hard time about this, tell her the truth. I'm the only one she'd be angry with, you have nothing to fear from her. Well, perhaps you shouldn't tell her the whole truth," he added with a faint smile.

"Who would have thought you of all people would enjoy this so much?" she asked with a laugh and disappeared into the night.


*A/N* I am highly insecure about this chapter, so by all means let me have your opinion on it!

As for the characterisations of Klaus and Rebekah, I've got to admit I'm really proud of them. Just watched "Farewell to Storyville" (and it was beautiful) and I think there is an immense lot to learn about the three of them as a family and as individuals. So thoughts and comments would be very welcome.