7. All you can do is move on
The water warms her but it doesn't chase away the images in her mind. It can't cleanse her in the way she wishes it would. Caroline alternates between pressing her forehead against the steamy tiles of the bathroom wall and clenching her fingers into her skin, the sharp sensation keeping her in the present.
No more blood on her skin but she can feel it all, covering her with invisible shame. It's phantom blood and not her own. She's been very meticulous in keeping all her victims' blood from staining anything.
Her skin is unblemished but what's underneath has her wanting to hide away from the world. She's not one to wallow in self-pity, at least not anymore, but she's terrified of her own head right now.
In some ways she's glad that the day is only beginning now and she doesn't have to try and sleep. She has a breakfast with the Original family to survive and decisions to make and coping mechanisms to find so she can come to terms with these past weeks. She also has Klaus to figure out.
When he handed back her ring and showed her to a new room, one with a balcony and adjoining bathroom, he had this look on his face that she couldn't place. It made her nervous. He departed without another comment, leaving her to clean herself up. She hasn't quite decided yet if she is glad to have solitude back for a while.
She knows that she's already back to being attentive to every single one of his motions, trying to understand his intentions before he can spring the unexpected on her. Her emotionless self didn't care and wasn't afraid of handling him just like she would deal with anyone else in her way. She must have picked up something from her unscrupulous sire.
She can't do that now though, can't be so callous because she's agreed to remain under his roof for the time being. They are back to playing the guessing game with each other and she is trying to comprehend why he is offering her his hospitality.
Maybe it's the hope of picking up where they left off months ago? It's been little over a year and still, he has kept his promise to her.
She sought him out so it was her free decision to come here, albeit with no pleasant intentions. She's done her part in causing trouble and has no actual idea about how he's taking it. So preoccupied with herself just now, she wasn't able to read him at all.
She's not so foolhardy to presume to know what's happened in his life since leaving Virginia; most of his goals could have changed. No more hybrid army in the making, no more interest in the Doppelganger.
More than that, she's thinking about his blood again and really doesn't understand why. She's entirely satiated now and has no reason to be craving any more. The way that the taste sparked a longing inside her, for what exactly she doesn't know. Just more. It adds to the confusion of her feelings and she hopes it will pass.
There's a dress laid out on the bed when she returns to the room and she doesn't question its origins. Probably something out of Rebekah's closet, unless there's another girl staying in this household that's about her size.
The expensive material has her guessing it's probably the Original vampire's choice of clothing. Not that she has anything else to wear so she tugs the cream fabric over her head.
On the bedside table, she spots her bag and sighs in relief. She has everything in there; it would have been a disaster to have to deal with a missing wallet or passport if it had been lost during yesterday's events.
She retrieves her phone and scrolls through the calls she noticed the morning before. All from Klaus, in short succession and she knows exactly what provoked them. Also a message from Stefan.
11:24. There's a letter for you at Whitmore, from your mom. I thought you'd want to know.
Her eyes grow wide as she reads the words and she doesn't understand. What does he mean? Why would her mom have sent her a letter before her passing? She drops the phone onto the covers before she loses her resolve and calls him.
She can't yet, no matter how desperate she is to know what he is talking about. This new information … Liz' face is in front of her inner eye again and she wants to reach out, hold her but knows she can't. Ever again.
Tears are burning in the corners of her eyes but she furiously blinks them away. She can't let herself go today. Or tomorrow. What was that advice Damon, of all people, gave her? Not the first week will be the hardest - it's the second.
She plans to stay strong until then because if she can manage that, she knows she will survive the weeks to follow. She can't allow herself to fall into the pit that made her shut off her humanity in the first place.
In her continued search for distraction, she ends up on the balcony, feeling the sunshine dance on her skin without burning her alive. Her hair dries in the breeze and she takes comfort in the fact that life on the streets seems to be going on as always. All the lives she hasn't ruined in her stay here. Not that it makes up for the ones she took.
The lapis lazuli glints on her finger and she twists the ring around, realizes she can't really remember what she did with the one she took from Klaus' minion. She honestly hopes the poor man survived their encounter.
Not that Klaus' subordinates usually have happy endings but she is responsible for someone close to him dying. She's sorry about that too, the guy obviously didn't even know what he was spying on her for.
The thought of the hybrid has her thinking of the way his vein pulsed against her tongue again and she furrows her brow. Why is that experience circling around in her head? It was nothing but an instinctive reaction, both because she was hungry and angry. She is definitely not thinking about how the power felt running down her throat, not at all.
Searching for a new distraction, she nudges a loose tile with her toe, feels its smooth texture under her foot.
She almost jumps when his hands close around the railing beside her. She never even heard him coming in and that alone has the nervousness return like a kick to her gut. God, these unstable emotions are taking a toll on her ability to stay nonchalant in his presence. She notes that he's changed as well, grey shirt and jeans matching the more relaxed demeanour she senses in him.
"You don't wear any colour," she remarks and is instantly confused as to why she even comments on it. It's not something she consciously questioned before. Black is always the colour of the villains, is it not?
He tilts his head downwards, watches the heads of the people passing by. The corner of his mouth lifts though when he tells her, "I save that for my paintings."
Caroline presses her lips together to avoid telling him that blue would really work on him. She's not here to give him style advice, not here to do anything for him actually. It's probably just a matter of time until he reveals to her what he expects in return for letting her stay and until then, she'll just have to wait and see.
"How are you feeling, love?" he asks in the midst of her thoughts and she catches him looking at her attentively.
She can only think of one thing that is somewhat honest when it comes to her inner chaos, "More like myself, I guess."
He shrugs as he straightens from leaning onto the banister. "You were never really not yourself. Simply the most stripped-down, instinctual vampire version that was true to her nature without regard for others."
"Apparently you didn't like that version enough to keep her around," she doesn't have to elaborate that she didn't either, "Or you wouldn't have forced me to let my emotions back in."
"Under different circumstances I could have enjoyed her," he's looking at her in that way again, the one that she can't make sense of but his words practically invite her to read between the lines, "At another time, I might have let her run free here to do as she pleases. I might even have joined in. But then, I already knew who you truly are and I happen to prefer the side of you that feels something beyond the thrill of hunting."
And there she is, thinking about his blood under her fingertips again. She can't believe that his easygoing honesty has her sliding right back into that memory and lusting for the taste again. Something is really wrong with her today.
She focuses on the intricate building opposite again, breaking the connection of their eye contact and the immense need to bury her fangs in his neck.
"That still doesn't make it your decision to force me back to humanity," she responds instead of letting the statement get to her. He shouldn't forget that he removed her free will today to make her obey and that she's not giving up on her anger that easily, "I set myself a year of living that way and you took that away from me."
He doesn't seem chastised at all, rather amused.
"A year? Sweetheart, unless somebody put you in this exact position you would never have returned to yourself by your own volition. No vampire without humanity has that kind of control. You need a pressure point and that can be harder to find than you think when you have cut the ties to what used to be important. You'd be denying your instinctual urges and after a year, I doubt you'd remember why you ever wanted to regain your emotions."
She hasn't even realized that her gaze has drifted back to his neck and catches herself, narrowing her eyes at him instead. "When I make plans, I stick to them."
That knowing smile again. "Let's talk about this in a year and we'll see if you still believe it. Until then, we shouldn't keep Elijah waiting with breakfast. He's become very particular about family meals."
"Wait," she blurts out, makes him stop mid-step. She swallows, suddenly unsure of how to formulate it, "I … I know Camille was your friend. She looked out for you and I'm sure she meant something to you too, otherwise you wouldn't have ... look, I never wanted other people to get hurt when I turned it off and I'd take this back if I could."
He obviously didn't expect that kind of admittance and turns away for a moment. She wonders what he doesn't want her to see because when he faces her again, there's a different kind of composure in his features.
"She was human," he murmurs, looking into middle distance, "It would have happened eventually. Possibly even by my hand under the wrong circumstances."
That's not quite the reply she thought she'd get. "What?"
He seems to get a grip, faces her with a frown that tells her he doesn't want to speak about it. "It's best not to dwell on the dead. Especially not in this city."
She can't find any words to argue with him, can only watch as he walks back inside with long strides. She's unsettled something, clearly, but obviously prodding for more is just going to set him off. Neither of them need that right now.
So she follows him out of the room, down a staircase and across the expansive courtyard she saw earlier. This place could literally hold a whole royal household, which is probably what it was used for earlier in the century.
It seems almost too big for a family of three all alone. Privacy is one thing but with such emptiness, she thinks it can easily turn into a lonely place.
Her feet feel the cool concrete of the courtyard turn into polished wood as they head into a different wing and he holds the door open for her, letting her move into the dining room.
He's lost some of that ease with the conversation about the dead bartender and she sighs inwardly. Now there are just two more dangerous siblings to handle without getting herself killed.
Way to start the day, Caroline.
That thought is quickly forgotten when she sees what's waiting for her inside. The sheer amount of food isn't what makes her stare, not even the expensive furnishing or the way the candles make the entire room glow with warm light.
What really makes her freeze several steps inside is the sight of the child settled in the oldest Mikaelson's arms. The baby that should have been impossible and that she would never have believed if that warlock hadn't spoken of it with such distaste.
Caroline has to admit she's a beautiful little thing, with big blue eyes taking in the newcomer as she holds onto her uncle's suit lapel. It's hard to process that the werewolf who caused so much damage in Mystic Falls is the mother to this baby.
She truly doesn't like the girl and really doesn't know how she would react if she joined the scene now. After everything that happened with Tyler and her friends, with Klaus and his hybrid pack, she blames that wolf for a lot of things.
The bartender mentioned something about her being away from the child at the moment but she didn't pay attention to it at the time. She wonders if Hayley stays in this compound too, what kind of relationship this family has with her.
The image of the werewolf and Klaus creeps her out more than it should because by the looks of the child, who can't be more than a year old, they must have been together when he was still in Virginia. Way before she met him that day in the woods.
It shouldn't make her angry after all this time but it does.
Elijah takes it upon himself to break the silence by clearing his throat, welcoming her with a nod. He still appears suspicious but friendlier compared to when he nailed her to the chair yesterday. Nearly twenty-four hours later, she's someone different and he is still as polite as ever. She can't tear her eyes from the toddler.
"This is Hope," the eldest Original informs her.
"I know," she manages to say, focusing on Elijah before the eyes that are so much like Klaus' swallow her up with their innocent gaze, "I've heard about her."
"I suppose news of a miracle child will even make it as far as Mystic Falls," he admits and she quickly shakes her head, clarifying that she picked up the knowledge in New Orleans. The Original looks over her shoulder at his brother, "We did attempt to keep her existence hidden before and that didn't work out the way it should have."
Then there's Klaus' hand on her back, guiding to one of the chairs.
"Enough talk of the past," he decides firmly and she can imagine the look he shoots his brother to silence him on the subject, "We've had enough grief recently, no need to bring any of it up again when the future is far more promising."
She doesn't even want to start interpreting that as he settles on the chair beside her.
"And what exactly are you talking about now?" comes another voice from the doorway and Caroline looks around to find the speaker standing there, all dark clothes and sharp eyes, just like the other Mikaelsons.
She's never met this girl before but she is instantly reminded of Liv and her no-bullshit attitude. The leather jacket and boots make her fit right in; she seems to be the edgy female counter piece to these men.
"Freya," Elijah greets the dark blonde as she walks in to stand beside him and strokes the baby's cheek in affection, "We're hosting a guest this morning, an acquaintance from Klaus' time before New Orleans. Miss Forbes, this is our sister Freya. Sister, meet Caroline Forbes."
Another sibling, they've got to be kidding. She almost can't believe what she's hearing but stares at the woman just as unabashedly as she looked at the baby earlier, entirely bewildered.
Is this another one that Klaus had daggered somewhere outside Mystic Falls? Or maybe a sibling that miraculously managed to lead her own life away from the others this whole time?
She watches in stunned silence as the young woman takes Hope from the Original and puts her in the high chair at the end of the table.
"So you're the one that killed the human," the blonde sizes her up as she sits down beside the baby, "With what I know of my brother, I'm surprised you're still here and breathing."
"Her humanity has returned, I am told," Elijah jumps in before she can reply anything to that and he pulls out the chair across from his brother, helping himself to a beignet, "I assume Niklaus is letting you stay to make amends for what has transpired."
"Brother…" Klaus starts but Caroline cuts in then, still mulling over the previous introduction and how this makes no sense at all.
"Now wait a minute, I don't get it. Where did you come from? I thought there are only five siblings in this family."
"Considering that two are dead at the minute, there are four," Klaus explains between sips of coffee, "And Freya happens to be a living witch whom we believed to be gone forever since we were children. As it turns out, our aunt kept her away from the rest of family for centuries and dabbled with certain dark magic to make both of them immortal, so here we are, a thousand years down the road and reunited."
She should really learn to just accept these impossibilities and the supernatural craziness as something normal. After all, supposedly dead people keep coming back to life all the time. She has no idea how often Jeremy has been revived or Alaric brought back from death, doesn't even want to get started on how many times Matt has been killed – so there seems to be no end to what complicated witch power can do. Why should this be surprising?
Even so, that still leaves one chair at the table unaccounted for.
"What about Rebekah?"
She's almost expecting to hear that the vampire has been daggered back into a coffin but she suspects the oldest brother wouldn't have any of that. Elijah takes this one.
"Our dearest sister has decided to leave New Orleans to embark on a journey of self-reflection in the body of a mortal. Freya was kind enough to transfer her spirit into a witch. She fares quite well without her vampirism, actually."
"Right," is all she can reply and bites into a croissant to avoid saying anything else.
There's a drawn out silence in which the new sister watches her over a bowl of watermelon salad and Caroline feels caught in the midst of something she shouldn't be in. There's obviously no appreciation for her on the other side of the table.
She glances at the baby who is happily chewing on the fruit mush that Freya feeds her and knows that the little girl is probably the only person at the table not judging her right now.
She's being equally hard on herself for what she's done and the witch simply voiced what she was thinking earlier. Had she been someone else, Klaus would have surely disposed of her without a second thought.
"What I was talking about are Elijah's plans to rescue the Crescent pack from their predicament," Klaus is addressing the witch, concerning her earlier question, "And our situation with the witches that could easily be dealt with if you agreed to form an alliance."
"The predicament you put the wolves in," the older vampire reminds him with a look that tells Caroline he's not at all pleased with the hybrid. As if she doesn't already know that it's a bad idea to be a guest in this city, a guest to this dangerous family with its constant feuds.
"And willing to reverse, as I've told you," Klaus emphasizes.
The other vampire narrows his eyes.
"Make no mistake brother, when the next full moon rises they will lash out while they have their human form. Hayley has assured me that unrest has been building these past two months; they are not taking their situation lightly anymore. We cannot be certain that Hope will be safe from harm. I'd rather they were released from the curse before that happens, so that amends may be made without bloodshed."
"Because you know just how effective it is to negotiate with angry wolves," Klaus empties his cup, "We can always leave town with her for a night, should there be a crisis. We have ten days until the next moon. In any case, our all-powerful witch sister here has been working on reversing the spell in order to nullify its effects. If that doesn't satisfy you, you can always try to convince dearest Davina to use her newfound power to do it."
Freya simply raises her eyebrows at the mention of her name but says nothing, focusing on getting the baby to finish the meal. The brothers are silent, locking gazes in an unspoken match of dominance. Caroline dusts the crumbs off her fingers, pointedly looking at her plate.
So this is what a breakfast with the family looks like. She doesn't know if she can put up with it for the next couple of days. Maybe leaving really is the better option before she gets pulled into any of these issues.
She turns to the hybrid, wants to say something that will dispel the tension hovering over the table but finds herself pausing. There's a vein throbbing in the side of his neck and she is drawn to it instantly, trying not to stare despite being able to sense the rush of blood under the skin. Her fangs are itching in their gums and she only snaps to attention when Elijah addresses her.
"And how long will you be staying here, Miss Forbes?"
"Caroline," she stresses, feeling far too involved here for him to still speak so formally, "I haven't made a plan yet. I can't go back to Mystic Falls right now but it's a problem, I …"
"It's not," Klaus assures her before she can list any alternatives, throwing his brother a glance, "You can stay as long as you wish."
The witch speaks up then and in the tone of her voice, Caroline can hear every bit of mistrust directed at her. "And as always, you would have us accept your decision on that, brother. The question is, will she try to kill someone else while she's here?"
"I would never touch the baby, if that's what you're talking about," she snaps right back at the blonde, outraged that she would even consider that. Like she would lay a hand on a helpless infant. She may be a vampire but she's far from a lunatic serial killer with a taste for children, "I didn't come here to kill anyone."
Cold eyes disagree with her and the girl remains indifferent, taking a sip of her orange juice before speaking. "The evidence speaks against you, doesn't it?"
"I wasn't myself up until this morning," she defends herself, realizing how ridiculous it sounds even if it's the complete truth. How to explain having no humanity to a person that is not a vampire? She doesn't even know if anyone in the Original family ever flipped the switch, come to think of it.
The older girl puts down the baby's spoon and leans forward.
"Look, I don't know you. But I've been inside my brother's head before and I know he had an attachment to that human just like he has one to you. So there's grief and affection involved here, which basically means he can't judge the whole situation objectively and shouldn't be the one to decide if you're safe to stay around this baby."
"Enough," Klaus speaks up on her right with warning in his voice, clearly irritated at the comment on his feelings but Caroline has already had it. She bends over the table as well, pinning the witch with her best condescending expression.
"I am not a murderer. If I was, that baby wouldn't even be sitting here right now."
That results in a highly uncomfortable stretch of silence and Caroline leans back in her seat, demonstratively taking one of the beignets that Elijah recommended so highly during their meeting.
The older brother actually looks somewhat impressed by her rebuff, although his eyes immediately move to the child squirming in her chair. Freya continues in her offensive glare, the baby feeding all but forgotten as she stares her down.
The hybrid is the one that settles the dilemma with decisive words. "She's staying."
Obviously having some experience with contradicting the stubborn ones in this family, the witch seeks help from the vampire beside her. "Elijah?"
"She may remain here," he also concedes after a moment of contemplation, "But you are responsible for her actions, Niklaus. I've told you before; I did not return to stand by your side in any more scheming but to support Hope because her mother has asked me to. Should anything, and I mean anything at all, alert me to a threat residing here I will not hesitate to take care of it."
Nobody needs any more clarification of what exactly he is referring to. Caroline clenches her fingers into a fist under the table, very much questioning why she wanted to stay here in the first place.
It's probably best to either pull a Rapunzel and lock herself in the room she's been given, as far away from the child as possible, or spend the entire day away from this compound and avert any suspicions. Screw that, she should have the common sense to leave.
Klaus doesn't look pleased either but he holds his tongue, instead rising from his chair and leaving the room. Caroline focuses on helping herself to the fruit salad, avoiding the looks from the other two.
She's surprised when Elijah addresses her after several minutes of quiet chewing around the table, only broken by the cheery cooing from the baby. He is pouring himself another cup of tea and drops the question, casually, as though he didn't just implicitly threaten her life.
"What is it that you are doing now, Caroline? I take it you have been busy since graduating."
She takes a little to process because it's seems too trivial a topic for her to give him a good answer. She doubts he's truly interested, more likely gathering information about her in case he needs it. She keeps it short because there's really no need to get him up to date on everything they've been dealing with back in Mystic Falls – from that insane Gemini coven to prison worlds and twisted scientists at Whitmore. No, definitely too much information to share.
"I'm in college. Majoring in drama. Although Stefan killed the head of the department last week so I'll probably have to change when I get back."
That rouses a smile from him as he nips at his tea. "Fitting," is all he says and she doesn't ask whether he means her choice of subject or her friend's actions.
Klaus returns in that moment, holding a brimming glass out to her. She accepts and glances up to see him taking a long drink from his own, red drops running down the glass as he sets it on the table.
Her throat instantly feels dry and her senses sharpen, catching the scent of the warm liquid, straight from the source. It's not the kind has been craving this entire morning but she takes the tumbler anyway, tipping back the contents.
"Who's was it?" she asks, when the veins under her eyes have receded but the thirst for a different kind of blood remains.
"The butler's," her host swirls his own glass around, liquid life in his hand and catches her gaze, "Don't worry, love, he's being paid for it."
She doesn't answer, staring at the empty tumbler and seeing bodies behind it. The conversation around her turns into dim noise and her mental images are taking over, no matter how much she struggles. All those humans she drank from since leaving home, the overly large number of them that didn't make it.
That bartender she stayed with and used as her personal blood bank for a weekend. She made him forget but that feeling of being exploited will always remain in him and he won't understand why.
She pushes the glass aside; tries to finish what's on her plate but the faces are back now and watching her from the other end of the room. She looks away but they're in every corner, keeping track of her motions. She closes her eyes and tries to think of something in the present that's important, that she can cling to. Something practical.
"I should probably get my things from the apartment."
"No need," Klaus informs her and instantly her opportunity for a distraction vanishes, "They were collected yesterday when I had the body removed. A call and they'll be brought here."
"What body?" Elijah is alert again, looking at the hybrid over the rim of his cup. Even Freya grants him her attention again, eyebrows furrowed.
He shrugs with such a guiltless expression on his face that she wishes she could mirror it with her own situation. "Just a casualty on the way to retrieving Caroline. A student who should have been more cooperative. I made arrangements to cover the tracks."
"Good," the Original concedes, "We can't have the witches becoming aware of any deaths around the Quarter, they are on edge as it is. Marcel is having trouble reaching out to Davina since the funeral, he said she's come to delude herself it is a conspiracy from the vampires. Meaning us."
Funeral. Flowers. Her mother in a coffin. Her own voice floating over the crowd of people honouring Liz Forbes, the black figures stretching to the corners of the church. The pain of realizing that the body lying there was truly the person she had lived with, been raised by and cared for deeply her entire life. Taken away with no chance of being revived, leaving her to break apart.
Caroline presses her fingers against her temple, willing the images to disappear. It doesn't work. She needs air. Now.
Rising from the table and barely managing to excuse herself, she heads straight through the double doors towards the courtyard. The boy from Whitmore that she compelled into a heart attack waits for her in the corridor, watching her silently as she walks past. She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut again. She needs to stop seeing them.
"Caroline," she hears him behind her a moment later but ignores it, striding across the sunlit square. He'll catch up to her, she knows, but what's more important is sidestepping the body of the teenage wolf girl who stares up at her with an unnaturally tilted neck.
There's her mom again, standing beside the gates she's about to reach with cancer-drawn cheekbones and sad, disappointed eyes. She stops abruptly, turns to escape in the other direction and almost collides with the hybrid.
His expression is one of question but over his shoulder the couple from the other night are watching her with distressed faces, bloody hands around each other's waist and necks ripped open.
Damn it, why is this happening to her now? She was doing so well this whole time. She must look as anxious as she's feeling because he puts a hand on her arm, anchoring her in place as she continues to search for a way out.
"Don't," she warns him, trying to back up. He doesn't give her that room and she focuses on him for a second, voice unsteady, "Let me go."
Pausing turns out to be a mistake because as soon as she zeroes her attention in on him, there's that vein back in her field of vision, pulsing gently in front of her. Blood that will make the faces go away, just like last time and she finds that the thought of running is suddenly gone.
She just needs him off guard so she can get close enough. She's trembling by now, isn't sure whether its fear or anticipation, so it's not difficult to convince him that something is affecting her.
She doesn't hear him asking what's wrong because she's already folding into his body, letting the fight drain out of her and instead wrapping arms around his neck. Acting as though she's seeking consolation in his embrace.
In his surprise, he doesn't react immediately and she waits, shaking with suppressed agitation, until the warmth of his hands circles her back and pulls her in.
Caroline holds onto him tightly even as she glances over his shoulder at the boy from Tulane, standing there with his open throat just two strides away. She averts her gaze, breathes in once, lets it out and watches the flesh rise in goose bumps just over his necklaces.
Then she bites down.
