"'you liked me once, didn't you?' he asked.

'LIKED you? I LOVED you. Everybody loved you. You could've had anybody you wanted for the asking.'" - F. Scott Fitzgerald Tender Is The Night


The pricey $54 mascara that was currently coating Isobel Flemming's freshly curled eyelashes felt heavier than a block of cement. She'd been sitting at the BAU office for the past two hours, reading and re-reading the Petrova family file. For all she learned, the only conclusion Isobel could come to were that the Petrova's bred like rabbits in the spring. For every Bulgarian citizen, there were at least three more Petrova's waiting in the wings.

There was sweet, pretty Amara Petrova who had a heart of 48 karat gold. And she was too fucking kind to everyone, too fucking warm and welcoming and gracious that she wound up dead because of it.

Then there was Tatia Petrova, Amara's temerarious sister who tried to sparrow her way through life with all the grace of a blind quarterback. Quite honestly, Isobel was surprised there wasn't more information on her; Amara may have been in the papers for charity work but Tatia's stories were a dime a dozen. The girl couldn't seem to stay out of the tabloids and then - poof! One magical day, she just up and fucking vanishes from all major news sources; Isobel - never one to be deterred - had called and flirted and threatened every news station within the North American border and…nothing.

Not a single executive, manager, or low paid reporter was willing to divulge anything.

Whatever happened to the fucking policy of truth and justice? How the fuck were they supposed to locate Caroline Forbes when all their leads simply led to dead ends? Kol Mikaelson was near impossible to track down, flittering from Tokyo to London to South Africa and then back again. Isobel doubted anyone could live past 40 keeping those hours but then again, his exploits nearly rivaled Tatia's so the dark haired liaison couldn't find it in her heart to dispute it.

Unclasping her fountain pen, Isobel made a few notes alongside the margins of Tatia's file before standing. Her body was stiff and her back ached from crouching over her paper strew desk since six in the morning; not to mention, Isobel hadn't eaten in what felt like years.

"Time to see who's left in the office." she plucked up her purse, stowed away the files, and strode out of her office, keys in hand and gray eyes searching.

Little Gilbert had left hours ago alongside Luka and Isobel knew Meredith was keeping odd hours in her little hideaway office whilst Alaric, dear man, had his office door closed. That was a clear "don't fucking disturb me or I'll cut your balls off" warning and Isobel wasn't going to poke an angry bull.

That left…Damon.

Isobel grimaced. It wasn't that she didn't like her boss - no, they knew each other quite intimately but that was besides the point. The crux of the matter lay in the fact that every time they got together, they wound up half drunk and horny as fuck, ready to tear off the other's clothes at a moments notice. Isobel felt certain that Damon held no real feelings for her - apart from maybe lust and a sort of distorted affection that was derived from amusement and begrudged respect - and she wasn't denying herself for "moral" reasons.

No, the reason why Isobel Flemming - with all her looks and that sharp, arrant tongue - was reluctant to invite Damon Salvatore to dinner with her (or breakfast, given the time) was because of her.

Elena Gilbert was coming down to Washington D.C. to beg almighty Damon's mercy on Little Gilbert's behalf. Some cousin of hers was getting married and -

Before Isobel could even blink, the door to Damon's office slammed open and a dark haired, frazzled Unit Chief stumbled out. Behind him trailed an equally excited - if not somewhat terse - Bonnie Bennett, slim fingers clutching at a sheet of white paper.

"Isobel!" Damon ran down the steps with an almost inhuman speed, grasping her arm and practically dragging her forward. "Where's Meredith?" he demanded, running down the darkened corridor to the techie's curtained office with the zeal and zest of a newlywed. "We've finally got something solid to confront Katherine Pierce with and if Fell has anything to say about it, this information'll be a straight lead into the Amara and Testy Petrova."

"It's Tatia." Isobel corrected, somewhat bewildered but more than intrigued. "What has little Bennett managed to dig up that's gotten you all excited? That look on your face is supposed to be reserved for the bedroom only." she teased lightly as Damon's sprint slowed and his grip tightened.

"Isobel - "

"Relax. It's practically after-hours and no one can hear us."

Damon turned, his gaze burning like blue fire as he stared her down. "Isobel. This doesn't change anything." his voice was firm, almost demanding as gray met blue. "Nothing."

"She's going to be here this weekend. It's not like I care if you two rekindle whatever dalliance you had." Isobel feigned nonchalance, face a perfect mask of indifference, aided by the dim hallway lights.

Damon hesitated, his pace slowing now to almost a stroll before he stopped. Before Isobel could blink, Damon had her pinned against the wall, his mouth centimeters from her own.

"I don't want anything to change between us." he stated, breath hot against her lips as his body pressed against hers. "I don't - "

She placed her fingertips against his cheek, silencing Damon with surprising ease. Gently, she moved her hand towards his mouth, forefinger tracing his lower lip with the same silent sorrow one did before saying goodbye. "Damon." Isobel smiled, lips curving with a patience none knew she possessed. "You left Elena Gilbert behind in Lexington because you were scared shitless of whatever power she had over you. I'm not saying that you were some frightened little boy and I'm not going to displace Freudian psychology on you - " he smirked at that but his eyes, those blazing blue eyes, were despondent.

"Isobel." there was no question, no phrase to pass betwixt his lips but she knew well enough.

Please.

"You don't love me Damon. You've never loved me. But that girl - that little Elena Gilbert from Lexington, Virginia whose heart you broke…you love her. You're proud of her, don't think I don't know it. She's got more heart and brevity than I do even if I live seven lifetimes. Every time someone mentions how well Stefan's doing, your eyes grow hazy and I know it's not just because of your brother's success. You know about Elena, you know what she's done for him." she hands left his mouth. "And you're hurt."

"Now wait a minute, Isobel - "

"I've done a lot of stupid things, Damon. I've cheated and manipulated and - " she took a breath, gray eyes opening to meet his with a ferocity Damon can't help but admire. "I've fucked up a lot and my biggest screwup is probably caring about you. So. I'm not going to let you ruin things with the only woman you'll ever love by chickening out." she placed one hand on his arm, grip firm. "I'm proud of everything you've achieved and…" Isobel leaned onto her tiptoes before gently pressing her lips to his, sealing away the space so only a kiss remained.

Goodbye, Damon.


Luka wasn't one to deign on the politics of societal norm - he focused more so on the why and how. Sitting squeamishly in the leather cream seats of the BAU jet, Luka wondered why Damon had sent him out of all people back to Los Angeles. He'd have thought Alaric would make for the more obvious choice but Damon insisted he needed his mentor back at the BAU while Luka was the only one who would be able to discern certain aspects of Tatia Petrova's life.

Tatia.

Luka shook his head in pity as he reviewed the files Meredith had sent him. Damon hadn't wanted them distributed to Isobel yet for the sake of the press - not that the talented liaison would give anything away - but the strangely convoluted nature of the case was causing a strain on their usually mordant Unit Chief. He'd explicitly informed Luka that the Petrova case was to be toppled onto him while Meredith handled Sabbas, Alaric with Caroline's associates, Bennett with Katherine Pierce, and Damon would take on Klaus Mikaelson himself.

Luka knew something wasn't right from the start; it was the same hunch Damon had picked up on but Luka knew there was something off kilter about Tatia Petrova. A woman can't simply vanish off the face of the earth for three years and then reappear as if nothing had happened. Meredith had attempted to track down travel records or any other familial connection but aside from the obvious dead sister - Amara - they were left with nothing.

It didn't help that the CIA refused to lend a hand in these proceedings and Alaric was still knee deep in filing the proper paperwork for access to the CIA database. All they had to go on was Tatia herself, her movements, her behavior; closing his eyes, Luka pondered the reality of it all. There had to be a reason why Tatia would have covered her tracks for three years. Something - an abortion? An illness? A falling out with her family? - must have been traumatic or cataclysmic enough for the Petrova family to buy the silence of the press and then some.

Yet…it didn't make sense. It wasn't that the Petrova's were unkempt people - it was that they had never been shy about their public life. Tatia's first birthday was filmed by a documentary crew and until recently, she also had a sex tape out there for all to see.

Luka's eyes suddenly opened.

Tatia's sex tape. Ripping open the folder before him, Luka quickly skimmed the document before hurdling towards the closet, searching for his phone.

That humiliating scandal had been suppressed by the Petrova's but the tape itself - already filmed and published for all to see - had never been taken down. For the Petrova's - while wealthy - simply couldn't spare ten million dollars to force publishing porn sites to close down a sector of profit. And boy, did that tape profit.

It'd been made in 2005, when Tatia was 18 years old and mysteriously - in 2009 - it vanished from the face of the earth.

Just like Tatia.

"C'mon…pick up! Meredith…" Luka nervously bit at his thumbnail, trying desperately to remain calm while his churning stomach - not helped by the altitude of the plane - threatened to spew its contents back up his esophagus.

"Speak to me my dearest duck." Meredith's cheery voice warbled through, allowing Luka a breath of relief.

"Meredith! Is there any way for you to track down sites that have closed or collapsed content?"

Meredith scoffed. "Darling, humans may have the capacity to forget but the internet holds onto things tighter than a hooker does cash. What do you want?"

"I want you to find a sex tape for me."

"...Luka, sweetie, you are an attractive and intelligent young man, so - "

"I - I didn't mean for me, I meant - I mean...I need you to find Tatia Petrova's sex tape." Luka sputtered out, cheeks red with embarrassment. "I believe it was called Man's Hunger. It was put on a porn site called around December 2005 and taken down somewhere in February of 2009. It correlates directly to Tatia suddenly going dark and practically vanishing off the face of the earth."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Luka…" she hesitated, voice tentative. "Luka I found something that - well, I don't even know if it's real because lord knows Tatia has enough junk up there. With the photoshopped pictures and her fake marriage contract to the prince of England…"

"Well, what'd you find?"

"I…I found a marriage certificate belonging to Elijah Mikaelson two days ago. It was licensed in Indonesia and the other party listed on there was a T. Petrova - "

"Meredith! That could be the missing link that - "

"No, no - Luka, listen to me!" Meredith pleaded, voice thin as she continued on. "I don't know if it's real and even if I did, we cannot simply barge into the Indonesian embassy and demand to view their records and files of every person who gets married there. The paperwork alone would take months to finish and honestly, Luka, Caroline doesn't have a whole lot of time on her hands."

Luka frowned, edging towards the recliner he was once curled up on. "But - hypothetically speaking - we don't necessarily need access to the Indonesian embassy, Meredith. We just need confirmation that the Mikaelson's - Elijah Mikaelson - was involved with Tatia Petrova specifically. That could be the red marker for a full blown investigation and, now that I think about it…Tatia resurfaced after three years in 2012 but there was an arrest dated around 2011 that just doesn't fit with the picture of a high society wife. Getting drunk in a bar in Brooklyn a year later also doesn't correlate but the sudden occurrence of it signifies change."

"What do you - "

"Meredith, can you track down divorce proceedings? I want everything you have from 2011 to 2013, we'll need a larger frame in case lawyers tried to smother any information. There'll have to be a trial of some sort as well - "

"Because once we find this, we'll be able to track down Tatia and from her we can connect this back to Elijah Mikaelson directly." Luka could already hear the rapid clicks of computer keys in the background. "I'll call you back when I have something, pudding pop." she crowed cheerily before the line went dead.

Luka put down his phone, the furrow in his brow reappeared as he frowned once more.

Pudding pop?


"How long has she been out?"

"Who cares?"

"You can't leave her for dead. This entire purpose of this location was to ensure that she was kept hidden - not slipping into death's hands."

"Are you lecturing me?"

"No. But I'm reminding you that your job is to make sure she lives."

A snort. "If she's dozing off, she can't talk. That girl will have her tongue ripped out if she keeps goading me like she does."

"She goads you because you're the only entertainment she has down here."

Heavy boots hit the stone ground with a measured pace, the scent of pine and dirt filling Caroline's senses. "Wake her up."

"She's been starved for two days and beaten in equal measure. We can't just 'wake her up' - "

"Then beat her until her eyes open." without another word, the man's large calloused palm lifted up and with the force of a falling boulder, met Caroline's cheek. "Get up, little girl." he shoved Caroline's form back against the wall, her chains moving noisily about her. "We can't have you dead yet."

"Galen."

Galen Vaughn's eyes snapped up, his mouth a grim sneer as he glared down his subordinate. "What?"

Lexi Branson walked into the narrow shaft of light, arms crossed and face blank. "I'll get her up if you get out of here."

Vaughn's expression turned grotesque as he stood up, stalking towards the honey haired girl as a lion does prey. "You'll free her." he accused.

"I don't have the key."

"And why should I trust anything you say? You were forced here - a prisoner."

Lexi sneered. "Unlike you Vaughn, I hold information Silas needs. I can't be dispensed like you can."

"Watch your mouth, little whore." he warned, voice taunting. "You've been left for dead once and now you don't even have the flimsy protection of the police on your side."

She smirked. "Well, you are the bigger man in the room. You have a girl who's barely 25 lying unconscious at your feet and then you have me. We are such threats to you." she spat out sarcastically, crossing her arms. "Get the fuck out of here, Vaughn. Unless you're too scared to do something of real value rather than sitting here on your ass, terrorizing young women who can't even hear you."

"Why you ungrateful little - "

"Vaughn!" a panicked voice suddenly called from the hallway, causing the disgruntled Irishman to turn around, fists balled.

"The fuck you want?" he growled lowly, pride wounded as a rather nervous looking young man ran into the underground chamber.

"It's him."

And just like that, Vaughn's face paled. All the bravado evaporating as he glared suspiciously between Lexi and the unconscious Caroline.

"What is it?"

"He didn't say but he certainly didn't sound happy, sir."

"You better get going, Vaughn." Lexi taunted, "or else the only big thing about you is going to be your dismembered dick."

He moved to strike her but stopped at the nervous squeak of the messenger, whose hands were shaking in fear. Galen hesitated. "How bad is it?"

"He didn't speak English." the messenger squirmed, clearly uncomfortable as the minutes dragged by.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." without another word, Galen turned briskly away from Lexi, gruffly commanding the younger man to follow him as he marched out of the room.

As soon as Vaughn was out of sight, Lexi ran towards the unconscious Caroline, sinking down beside her and gently brushing the girl's golden curls from her pale face. "Oh my…" she trailed off, the purple bruises blooming like irises against Caroline's porcelain cheeks. The grime and filth of the underground prison covered her formerly pristine skin and the thin cuts made from Galen's pocketknife were raw - mirroring flayed skin.

Klaus is going to kill me.


"Hello?"

"Luka!" Jeremy sounded out of breath, his voice a swinging gasp as he spewed for a plethora of vowels that the young doctor simply couldn't even begin to make out.

"Pardon?"

"I…said…oh, I have to start running again - I said, you remember that crystal figure we found in Caroline's apartment? The Viking one?"

"Of course! The vintage Scandinavian - "

"Meredith found a paper trail!" Jeremy cut in enthusiastically, unable to keep the smile out of his voice. "Even Klaus Mikaelson can't sever every link and a pricey crystal hummingbird bought at auction? There's a definite file in place. Are you listening to me, Luka? Get a pencil and paper - "

"I don't need to. I have an eidetic memory. Pen and paper are obsolete." Luka sounded somewhat offended by Jeremy's request but the younger Gilbert couldn't care less - one lead had finally showed up.

"Alright then, genius - remember ever word I'm going to say."

"Processing."

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "The bird was bought approximately a year ago, on November 2014. The first bid that was put in was on November 2, followed by another on November 4, before finally being sold on November 6 to a R. Mikaelson." he enumerated carefully, voice slow. "It was sold through Christie's at its original London base, not the one on Rockefeller Plaza in New York. Now, who do we know that's British, rich, and has a hankering for the finer things in life?"

"Klaus…" Luka breathed, eyes wide as stared unseeingly out of the plane window. "I can't believe we didn't take the auction house into account."

"There wasn't much we could do. The original status of the bird was foreign and this was most likely why it was barricaded in that secret wall Caroline had. Too obvious if anyone else found it. Now, Meredith can use the bidder's cashed cheque to locate the address of where it was shipped. Damon doesn't think it'll lead us to Klaus's real home but a Mikaelson purchased that bird and it somehow got into Caroline's hands. Meaning, the address most likely belongs to his sister - that socialite, Rebekah. From what Damon's said, she's a bit of a brat and Klaus dotes on her so she'll likely live within the same vicinity as he does. The allure of power and familial ties is something this woman reveres."

"Hm."

"Luka? You still there?"

"Yeah." he responded, voice distant as his brows furrowed.

Too obvious if anyone else found it…

"Jeremy."

"Yeah?"

"We never cleared out Caroline's apartment, did we? I mean - everything is exactly as it was?"

Jeremy frowned. "Um…pretty sure, yeah. There's still caution tape wrapped around her front door. Why?"

"That teapot of hers. The one that the perpetrator cleaned before kidnapping Caroline away…what if the kidnapper wasn't a kidnapper?"

"You're…not making any sense." Jeremy confessed. "Are you talking about a hired gun or…?"

"No." Luka shifted in his seat before standing up, making his way down the aisle and towards the on plane kitchen. "I mean we've already deduced that this interloper had to be someone Caroline knew, or that he was charming enough to talk his way inside. Now, judging by the man that Katherine Pierce described - the one who struck her as odd that she didn't even flirt with him while drunk…well, does that sound like the type of man who would convincing chat his way into Caroline Forbes's living room?"

"What are you getting at, Luka?"

He opened the mini fridge, plucking up a bottle of water. "I'm saying, Jeremy, that this kidnapper could be someone Caroline trusted. Someone she already knew. That was why there was no struggle, why Caroline had time to use the teapot. The tea pot. Now, statistically speaking, most men don't prescribe to tea because they deem it feminine - especially here in the United States. In a town as sexist and machismo oriented as Hollywood, California? That sense of 'manliness' is doubled." Luka uncapped the bottle before taking a small sip, his eyes burning. "What if, Jeremy, Caroline's kidnapper was actually a she?"

"Alright, but what does this have to do with he or she cleaning it? I mean, they're making tea, what's the big - "

"Because the type of tea - the brand or the leaves or something was too obvious. There must be a key defining feature in that tea that stands out." Luka blinked. "Jeremy. I need you to get to LA as quickly as you can. Take the next flight over now."

"The next flight? Luka, my sister's coming in three days, I can't just - "

"Jeremy."

A low sigh was emitted through the other line and Luka grinned. Jeremy and his pride.

"Alright. I'll take the redeye over to LA tonight, okay? I'll most likely look like shit when I get there but…" he shrugged. "Oh well."

"Great. Meet me at the Hollywood Palm at five PM." Luka hung up.

Jeremy frowned. The Hollywood Palm? Wasn't that a…nightclub?


Elijah Mikaelson strode towards the double doors that led into his brother's office with practiced nonchalance. Yet upon opening its doors, he was greeted to the sight of broken glass, mangled silver statues, and that pedestal - that raised dais where Klaus sat behind his huge, silver chromatic desk - was abandoned.

"Niklaus?" Elijah called, eyes scanning the disarrayed room; the walls and ceiling were made of Swedish glass, making the office appear as if it were floating on air. It often gave Elijah and unsettled feeling, particularly since the floor was paved with white marble - giving one the feel that they were walking off the edge of a cloud. He had no idea how his brother could remain in such a building and actually enjoy it but then again, the matter of Klaus's mind had long since been declared a unique specimen in itself.

Now, however, it just seemed to irritate the elder Mikaelson. He knew Klaus to do some idiotic things when pushed by passion but he'd always held a measure of control - a fragment of cold rationality that more times than not, saved his skin. But this time, Elijah had the distinct feeling that Klaus had thrown caution - and rationality - to the wind.

Walking up the steps that led to Klaus's olympian dais, he maneuvered around the desk to find scattered business mergers, managerial reports, documentation from a Chinese financial report…

And a photograph of Caroline, usually hidden (per her request) in Klaus's secret drawer underneath the table, splayed out for all to see.

To Nik - I love you.

It was inscribed in black fountain pen ink, making the glamour shot - all black and white throwback - appear like a lost relic of Hollywood's golden era. Beneath that was a lipstick print in shocking red, causing Elijah to wonder just how long his brother had held onto this photograph. Gently sliding the picture to the side, Elijah's eyes scanned the table for anything of use - the iMac desktop was turned off and Elijah was in no mood to finagle the damn contraption until he'd guessed Niklaus's passcode. Rather, he hoped and prayed one of his secretaries had been foolish enough to leave behind some scrap of paper - any evidence at all to show where on earth his hotheaded younger brother had vanished off to.

"Mr. Mikaelson? Excuse me, Mr. Mikaelson?" a young brunette stuck her head into the room, eyes scanning the premises before falling on Elijah. "Is Mr. Mikaelson here, Mr. Mikaelson?"

Elijah straightened, one hand still in his pocket as he gave a small shake of his head. "I'm afraid my brother has taken an early lunch." he lied smoothly, expression contained. "I merely came to inform him that the Prime Minister had rescheduled his meeting due to a matter of state."

"Oh." the young woman nodded, cheeks flushed. "I…I'll just add that into Mr. Mikaelson's event calendar."

Elijah nodded, turning down to look at Klaus's desk again, praying for some clue to show up before he realized the petite secretary was still standing there.

"Yes?"

She blushed an even deeper shade of red, her pale skin overcome with crimson as she ducked her head. "It's just…well, I've got Mr. Mikaelson's delivery from Bayeux is here and he instructed me to give it to him personally so…"

Elijah refrained from ordering the guard posted outside Klaus's door to slam it in the girl's face and instead, mustered up a small smile. "Please, come in then." he gestured, one hand balled tightly in his trouser pocket as the young secretary scurried in, surprising Elijah with the speed she could maneuver in given the height of her heels.

"Where do you want it, sir?"

He waved a hand, "anywhere there's room."

The secretary nodded, moving to the front of the desk before gently setting the package down. Right at that moment, her hand brushed against the red lipstick imprint on Caroline's photograph. "Oh!" she gasped, causing Elijah to look up and see a bright red gash against the girl's small hand.

He frowned. "Are you alright? What did my brother order? A set of Normandy knives?"

"No, no." she shook her head, embarrassed. "It's a tapestry and I just got some of that lipstick on me." she explained hastily, pointing to the headshot of Caroline.

Elijah frowned before turning back towards the wide eyed girl. "You may leave now." he enunciated coldly, causing the girl to practically sprint down the dais and out the door.

Alone, Elijah raised the photograph to the light. Slowly, he raised his forefinger and gently brushed against the smeared red print.

It was still fresh.


A/N: DUN DUN DUNNNNN. Anyone want to venture a guess at who took Caroline from her apartment?

I was going to put in a little Caroline section in here but then realized it just didn't fit with this chapter. As a result, I'm moving it onto the next chapter but be warned - it's a little melancholy.

Next chapter: Damon and Alaric buddy up for a little team investigation. Klaus and Caroline make an apperance. And Elijah partners up with Katherine to rescue his pigheaded younger brother.

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