Liz Forbes woke up to a knock on the door. She glanced at the alarm clock. It was the middle of the night. She groaned and tried to go back to sleep, letting herself believe she had only heard the noise in a dream.
The knock came again.
She reached into the nightstand and took her gun out, sliding the safety off. She carefully walked down the stairs and approached the front door with the trained caution she used when she swept a crime scene. She looked through the peek-hole and saw Damon standing on her porch.
"Damon? Honey what is it?" She said.
"Liz. We need to talk. Now."
She motioned for him to come in. She had always liked Caroline's ex. Sure, he was a bit old for her, but Caroline being with a high ranking council member meant that she would be well protected. Besides, she had her own friendship with Damon though all the missions they went on together, and she thought he was a good guy. One of the few left out there.
Damon walked into the living room.
"Do you want to sit?" she asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost. What happened?"
"Seen a ghost." he mumbled. It seemed to amuse him.
"Damon? Are you sick? What's wrong, honey? You look awful."
"You're the one who should sit." he said.
"Just tell me."
He glanced at the gun she was still holding.
"Could you maybe put that down?"
"Oh, right."
She slid the safety back on and set it on a table, barrel facing away. Liz looked over Damon's spooked countenance and sat down on the couch, waiting for whatever he had to say that couldn't wait until morning.
"I don't know where to start." Damon muttered.
"Is it the Council?"
"It's... shit, Liz, this is really hard to say."
"It's three seventeen in the morning and you just about knocked down my door. Whatever it is, just say it."
Damon nodded.
"Liz, I did some things... bad things."
"I'm on the Council too, Damon. We all did things."
"Ok, so Caroline and I agreed not to tell you, but when we were together... I wasn't myself. I wasn't... good to her. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. She never wanted you to know, but you need to, to understand what's going on."
Her eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean you weren't good to her? Why are you telling me this now?"
Liz didn't understand why Damon would come to her in the middle of the night to talk about that. Sure, she was aware that he and Caroline had their ups and downs, but her daughter always was like that with boys. Caroline had a hot temper and little patience for imperfection, so usually the boys that came and went didn't last long. Damon stuck around for a while, though. He was a good match, older, calmer. Liz had noticed Caroline was more subdued when she was with Damon, and it seemed like a good thing. Caroline was home less often, but she didn't pick fights with Liz anymore and she wasn't sneaking out with random boys or our partying like she was most nights before Damon. Liz even let her spend most nights at the Salvatore house, a decision that had caused a few raised eyebrows from other parents. Why not? She knew her daughter was no angel, and it was better that she was there than anywhere else she would be slipping off too. Liz was sorry to hear it when that relationship ended.
"You don't have to feel guilty because she's gone. I know Caroline wasn't perfect." She said, trying to calm him down. He looked jittery and spooked.
"I saw Niklaus Mikealson today." He said.
"They found his body?"
"No. I saw him. He's alive."
Liz's eyes widened in horror. It was impossible. There was no way anyone could have survived the crash.
"He's here?" She asked. "Is he in Mystic Falls?"
"No." Damon shook his head. "I don't think he would step foot in town, too many of us for him to take on alone. But he approached me at Gloria's. I thought I was meeting Logan. He killed both of the Fell brothers."
Liz shook her head. Hadn't that man done enough? Why could't he just stay dead? He took her baby. It was his fault Caroline was dead.
"He made it very clear that he wants me dead."
"He's always wanted you dead, you've wanted him dead. This isn't new."
"Not like this." Damon shook his head. "This is different, more personal. It's about revenge. And it's about Caroline."
Liz shook her head. "No, he never met her. She never knew anything about the Mikaelsons."
"I think she's alive." Damon said.
"No. My daughter's gone. Don't say it if it's not true."
"We were wrong. He knows things about her. He knows about things... me and her."
"It's impossible. My baby died. I know she did." Liz said.
"They never found a body."
"They said there were sharks in the water, there were strong currents..."
"Liz, listen to me. She's alive. And they have her."
Rebekah's head was pounding. She covered her eyes to block out the light that shone thought the ratty curtains. Where was she?
She remembered flirting with Stefan in the book store. Did something happen between them? She tried to piece together what had happened after the bookstore.
No, that wasn't right. There was no after the bookstore with Stefan.
She groaned as she remembered him one upping her, how he saw right through her plan. She had stomped to the closest bar and gotten black out drunk.
She cringed, wondering if she had slept with a stranger. It wouldn't be the first time she had done something she wasn't proud of while drinking, but she was horrified she didn't even remember it.
The room was a disaster. The sheets were worn and the only furniture other than the bed were shelves made out of milk crates. Piles of dirty clothes were flung around the floor and the entire place smelled like day old fast food.
Her clothes from last night were still on. Once she noticed everything was still in place she breathed a little easier. Nothing had happened. The only thing missing were her shoes and purse. After a quick search she managed to find them at the foot of the bed.
Rebekah tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the common space of the apartment. There was a man sleeping on the couch, one arm hanging down onto the floor.
It all came back. She remembered him, he was the cute bartender with the awful haircut. She remembered stumbling off the bar stool, the bartender helping her into his car... no it was a truck. Then they had shuffled up to his apartment, him supporting her weight as she could hardly walk. As soon as the door clicked shut she had thrown herself at him, knocking him against a wall. She kissed him and he flinched back, but she took his jolt of surprise for enthusiasm and kissed him again. It was sloppy drunken kissing, not her finest work. She didn't really get a chance to do much of anything, his hands quickly moved to her shoulders, gently pushing her away.
She had pouted.
"Hey, don't give me that look, you're drunk." he said, as if he was speaking to a child.
"I'm not -hic- drunk." she replied.
"Said the girl who tried to crawl up the steps. Right. Let's get you to bed."
"Let's get you to bed." She smirked back, pulling his shirt up a little.
He blushed and pulled her hand away, leading her to the bedroom.
"Here, just, uh.."
She had flopped down on the bed and was trying to pull herself under the covers.
He just shook his head and helped her get her shoes off.
"Night, Batgirl." He said, tucking her in. "You need anything, I'm just in the other room, ok?"
"Stay." she grumbled, reaching out towards him.
"No way, you're too handsy." he joked, backing out of the room. "But I promise to make you the best hangover remedy ever when you wake up. You're definitely going to need it."
Now she looked down at the sleeping bartender and her head was pounding, just like he had said. Why did she have to get so drunk that she let a stranger take her to an unfamiliar place? And throwing herself at yet another guy who didn't want her? If only Nik was here to see it. He would tear into her for being so stupid.
His eyes opened. She panicked and scurried towards the door.
"Hey, hold up." he grumbled.
She froze.
"Where you going?" he asked.
"I uh, I should go."
"Stay." he smiled. "I'll make you breakfast"
She hesitated in the doorway, considering bolting out anyway, but she was hungry and her head was pounding.
"I'm Matt, by the way. I think I said that last night, but you were kinda gone."
She just nodded.
"Still not going to tell me your real name?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Alright, Batgirl it is. How do you like your eggs?"
Rebekah hesitantly walked over to the kitchen area of the apartment, taking a seat at one of the folding chairs next to the tiny table. She watched Matt fix breakfast for them, and tried to think of anything to fill the silence.
He set a plate in front of her and reached into the fridge for a few bottles. She watched with curiosity as he mixed a can of beer, some hot sauce, gatorade and some airborne tablets into a glass.
He set the murky drink in front of her, along with a plate of eggs, a few aspirin and a glass of water.
"I'm not drinking that." she muttered.
"Fine. Enjoy your hangover." he shrugged.
"This is supposed to help? It's going to make me vomit."
He picked up the glass and took a sip. "See? Not so bad."
She tried to down it all in one sip, but she had to take a break. It was awful. Nasty, gritty awful drink. But she figured it was worth a shot, so she forced the whole thing down along with the aspirin and the water and she went back to her breakfast, praying the pounding in her head would stop.
A half hour later, Matt had convinced her to sit on the couch with him and watch some cartoons while they picked all the marshmallows out of a box of lucky charms.
"I can't believe you've never seen scooby-doo before." he exclaimed "What did you do when you were a kid?"
"Not sit around and watch television!"
"Are you kidding? Thats a crime! Every kid should have a few lazy Saturdays where they sit on the couch all day in their PJs."
"Well, I never did." she said, starting to get up.
He pulled her back on the couch.
"Stay. Try it."
She curled up next to him and watched the silly cartoons. He kept handing her all the horseshoes and balloons from the cereal because she had mentioned those ones were her favorites. It was nice. He was nice. Nice was very different than what she was used to.
They had been curled up on the couch for a while, just relaxing and sharing some idle chatter. She hated to admit that his disgusting concoction had cured her hangover, and even worse, it felt good to be curled up against him. She didn't want to get too attached. She always got too attached. She was leaving anyway.
A knock on the door made her jump, and the key in the lock made her pull away from him.
"Hello? Matt?" A voice called out.
A girl carrying two large dishes wrapped in aluminum foil let herself in and set them on the kitchen counter.
"Oh." the girl exclaimed, looking down at the two of them on the couch. "I uh... Hi."
Rebekah looked at Matt for an explanation.
"Hey Bonnie." he smiled. "This is..."
"Hi." Rebekah said "I'm Barbie. Nice to meet you."
Matt gave Rebekah a knowing look, fully aware that she wasn't giving her real name.
"Right." Bonnie said, giving them a once over. "I just brought over some food from Grams. One if for you and one is for Sheriff Forbes. Do you think you can run it over to her? I'm so late for work."
"No problem." Matt said. "Thanks, Bon."
Bonnie gave them another awkward look and scurried out of the apartment.
"My friend passed away recently." Matt said quietly "We bring her mom food."
"I'm sorry." Rebekah said. "That must be difficult."
"It's been hard, I miss her so much. But, this town takes care of their own. Her mom need us."
Rebekah smiled. She could see so much good in him. It was too bad she's have to leave, never to see him again.
"Do you want to come with me?" He asked. "I should go drop this off now."
Rebekah was curious. Forbes. It was Caroline's mother. The girl Nik had dragged into their house. Of course she was curious.
"I'd love to." She smiled.
Rebekah watched the storefronts and houses of the small town pass by as she sat in the passenger seat of the truck. This was nice. It was simple. It was easy. He woke up and just pulled her in for the day, never bringing up how she threw herself at him or how much of a mess she had been. There was no awkward conversation or prying questions. He was just easy to be around, relaxed, content. It was so different from anything she was used to. She felt relaxed, even though she knew she should be on her guard.
He pulled onto a new street.
"It's this one" He said, pointing at one of the houses ahead of them.
She looked out and tried to picture it, this was the place that girl had come from.
There was someone on the sidewalk, looking out at the house.
He turned around and she flinched, snapping off her seatbelt and flinging herself to the floor of the truck. She could recognize his face from a mile away.
"Are you ok?" Matt asked.
"Shhh!" Rebekah hissed. "Just. Don't say anything. Pretend I'm not here."
Matt looked confused.
"Act like I'm not here! Don't look down!" she barked out.
"Ok, crazy." He muttered.
She held her breath as he opened up the door and walked down the driveway to deliver the casserole or whatever was under that aluminum foil. She couldn't breathe. What if he saw her?
Matt got back in the car and turned the key a few times before the engine kicked. He drove the car down the bumpy road and watched as she waited until they turned the corner to climb back into her seat.
He shook his head and pulled into the parking lot they used whenever they snuck out to the falls in high school, shutting off the engine.
"Alright, whatever that was back there, you have to give me an explanation."
Rebekah bit her tongue, trying to think of something, anything.
It was the right address. He had checked seven times. But still, he found himself hesitating as he shifted his weight from one side to the other, standing next to the mailbox.
Kevlar was heavy. It bunched your clothes up weird and pinched when you sat down. But he figured the vest was a worthy precaution. She would answer the door armed, after all. No sheriff worth their badge would just fling the front door open without checking, and if she knew it was him, he'd be lucky to get off with just a shot to the chest. Of course, she could always aim for his head, but he was confident enough in his reflexes to be able to deflect that one.
Just walk up to the front door. Hand her the phone. Get out.
Just do it.
What are you waiting for?
But it was her mother, and for some reason that made Liz Forbes seem a little more intimidating than he had anticipated.
He heard the grind of gears and the whine of brakes in serious need of replacement. Willing to take any excuse to delay his ascent up the driveway, he watched the truck come into view and lumber down the street.
From a distance it looked like two people were in the car, but it must have just been the light. As the truck got closer it was clear the driver was the only one in the car. A young man pulled up a little past the Forbes house and got out, carrying a large dish wrapped in aluminum foil.
Klaus pretended to be an ordinary citizen, just out for a walk. He moved at a leisurely pace, keeping his back to the Forbes house as he heard the man knock, the Sheriff answer, and the brief exchange that followed.
He glanced back at the man as he walked in the car. The face was unfamiliar, Not a council member, but obviously someone with connections to the families if he was bringing sympathy casseroles to the grieving mother. He would have to dig through the files to match a name to it. Once the truck wheezed it's way out of sight he moved back towards the Forbes house.
Every step towards the front door felt like his shoes were made of lead. He knew she was there, so he couldn't even soothe himself with the thought that she might be out. Why was he doing this? And why was he so anxious about it? He refused to acknowledge that he was nervous. Nervous was not an emotion he knew. And it didn't matter who she was or whose mother she was. He could do this.
He knocked.
There was some movement inside and he could hear the footsteps approach the door, then pause as she looked out the peek-hole.
The door flung open and the barrel of a pistol pointed square at his chest.
"You have two seconds to get off my porch before I shoot a hole through your heart." Liz warned.
"She's alive." He said.
The gun didn't waver. Her expression of hatred stayed fixed on him. She already knew.
Klaus took a step forward. The gun was touching his shirt.
"I could shoot you point blank in front of ten witnesses and this town would throw me a parade." she growled.
"But then you'll never get to see her again. I know where she is, you don't. If you kill me..."
"If I kill you, that's just one less monster I have to protect this town from."
"You need me to stay alive if you ever want to see your daughter again."
"I don't negotiate with those who kill Council members."
"Interesting set of priorities you have." He muttered, shoving his way past her into the house.
"I didn't invite you in." She hissed.
"Well, I'm in. So close the door. Lets talk priorities."
Liz stomped into the house, keeping her gun aimed at him. He walked around the room, taking in the sights and smells. A familiar hint of cologne and bourbon tinged the air.
"You've had a visitor recently." He muttered. "Damon came here himself to tell you she was still alive?"
"You think you can threaten him? We'll take you down before you can blink." she spat out.
"And there's my first condition." He muttered, rummaging through his pockets. Liz's eyes followed his hands, waiting for him to pull out a gun. Instead he pulled out a phone and placed it on the table in front of him.
"Condition for what?"
"For if you want to speak to your daughter." He motioned to the phone. "This one is programmed to receive calls from one other phone. Untraceable, so don't bother. When I get back to her, I'm giving her the other one so she can speak to you. You'll know she's safe. But there are conditions."
Liz nodded.
"You will never invite Damon Salvatore into this house again. You will not socialize with him. You will not work with him. You will simply ignore his existence."
"You expect me to sit by and watch you kill him?" she challenged.
"No, I expect you to throw me a parade." He quipped. "But that would be expecting too much, wouldn't it? Now about the other conditions, I just have two more. One is that you will use your power on the council to talk down any possible attack on my family."
"And why would I do that?"
"Because we have Caroline. An attack on us is an attack on her."
"And your final condition?"
"You will let me walk out of here unharmed. You will do this because you know leaving me unharmed is your best chance at seeing your daughter again."
Liz nodded slowly.
Klaus stood up.
"That phone's going to ring tomorrow. You have my word."
A loud crack rang through the room and Klaus was knocked back onto the couch. He felt like he was kicked in the stomach, and beyond the pain there was the heat of the metal embedded in the kevlar.
She was watching, expecting him to bleed out on her sofa. Instead he reacted with the trained agility and grace that was so commonly whispered of the Mikaelsons. He sprang forward and lunged at her.
He knocked her on her back, sending the gun flying across the room.
Before Liz had time to process what had happened, she was trapped. He had managed to pull her arms behind her back and zip-tie them to the leg of a heavy table. She would be able to free herself with some maneuvering, but it would take time. He could kill her twenty times over before she could escape.
"If you weren't her mother, you'd already be dead." He said calmly.
"Go ahead and kill me. We'll have you in a matter of days." She threatened.
He sighed and sat down on the floor next to her.
"You know, I did my research on you. Divorced, no siblings, your parents passed years ago. You have one child. Just one. She's your only family. And yet you try to kill me, knowing I'm your best hope of seeing her again. Why?"
"Some things are more important than family."
"Like what? This town? Your Council?"
"They're all I have. I will always put them first."
"And Caroline?"
"She's already gone." Liz said. "I already said goodbye to my daughter when I put an empty box in the ground. If she's involved with your family, she's not my daughter anymore."
"You are a miserable excuse for a parent; you don't deserve a daughter like her."
"You don't deserve to breathe."
"Until next time.." He said, backing out of the room.
Then he was gone.
Liz waited until she heard the door click to wiggle her way out from under the table leg. The plastic zip tie dug into her skin a little, but it would break easily once she got her hands on something to cut it off. She would have to find the scissors on the kitchen counter with her arms still behind her back, but she'd been through a lot worse. He had left her virtually untouched. It didn't make any sense. The Mikaelsons were ruthless. He should have killed her. It must me some sort of game, a trap. He could still be there, waiting for her to relax and feel safe before he took her by surprise. The Wolf was notorious for getting inside people's heads, the game of driving them mad as much a part of his style as his preference for knives. But she pulled her looped arms under the leg of the table and managed to free herself, and he didn't pop out of the shadows.
As she managed to stand up with her arms still behind her back she noticed the phone was still there.
Caroline and Elijah were spending yet another breakfast in silence. Esther had been in and out quickly, mumbling about meetings. She gave Caroline a friendly nod as she rushed out. It wasn't a warm hug and cookies, but Caroline's own mother was usually cool and professional even at home, so it wasn't jarring. In fact, it was nice. The simplest little things, a "Good job" after her daily hour of target practice or the hint of approval she seemed to show whenever Henrik begged for just five more minutes of talking to Caroline before he was ordered off to bed were what kept her going. She could see that Esther was slowly beginning to see her as something other than a nuisance.
Esther was out and Alaric was in. He was rummaging through the kitchen, snatching up grapefruits, oranges, apples, onions, potatoes.
"You're going to want to see this." He smiled, motioning to the back yard.
Caroline followed him to the porch and watched him approach Henrik, who was carefully practicing the upward sweep and downward diagonal swing with a katana sword.
Alaric was joking as he chucked the fruits and vegetables at Henrik, who managed to slice most in half on the first try. Henrik kept his form and moved the sword at the exact same angle every time. He didn't have confidence, presence or muscle mass that suggested a bare handed brutality like his older brothers, but he shared their grace and precision.
"So you're like a regular around here now, huh?" Alaric asked Caroline as he picked up another piece of food to hurl at Henrick. Each pitch was getting faster or following a more difficult curve.
"Until Klaus lets me leave, I guess I'm stuck here. But he's still gone. Not that I want to be around him anyway." she huffed. She was still mad at him for that stupid phone call. Just calling to check in. As if everything would be just fine.
"Stop pretending like you're not dying to see him again." Alaric teased.
"I'm good, thanks." Caroline grumbled.
"You know, I'm in the business of spotting liars."
"Just keep throwing the oranges."
Security at the Salvatore home was lacking. Sure there were security cameras and alarms, but it was nothing like the fortress that was the Mikaelson home. There as no need for it. Their most deadly enemies stayed out of Mystic Falls, kept the fighting to the cities instead. It wasn't worth the risk to start a fight in the middle of their central hub.
But Klaus wasn't looking for a fight. He just wanted to play.
The cameras were in full view, making it easy for him to figure out the blind spots. He wondered if they were even turned on if they were just for show. There were several art heists he had pulled off thanks to cameras that weren't actually operating. No point in worrying about it, Damon was out at work along with Giuseppe, and Stefan was in a class. The most he had to worry about was running into a cleaning lady.
The best course of action was to slip in through Damon's bedroom window. He managed to scale the wall with the help of some uneven bricks, and as he balanced in the windowsill, he pried the window open with his knife. As he leaned forward to pull himself through the window a dull pain in his stomach hit him. There would be a nasty bruise. He wished he could be surprised she had the audacity to shoot him. So much for making a positive impression with the mother.
He looked around the room. The plan was to make his mark as quickly as possible and get out, but he hadn't been expecting the strange feeling he got from being there. Was this where it all happened? How many terrifying nights had she spent in this room?
He crouched down on the floor and traced his hand along the carpet. It was faded in patches, as if someone had to use bleach and other harsh chemicals to remove difficult stains. Blood stains. Her blood.
The calm rage the build inside him was intoxicating. It wasn't the heat that made one shake with anger. No, it was more. It was the horrible and wonderful feeling of knowing what lies ahead, of knowing that you'll be able to inflict pain in the most satisfying ways. At first, the heat of anger spread through him, being here. But now it was like stepping into a warm bath. He was surrounded by the feeling of knowing he could make Damon suffer more than she ever had. And it would feel so good.
He snapped himself out of it and got to work. The closet first. It was impeccably organized, rows of expensive suits, designer shirts, lots of black. He picked an item of clothing here and there and sliced into it, dragging three cuts across the chest of a shirt, the leg of a set of pants, the back of a jacket. Then he went to the desk. At least Damon was smart enough to hide his laptop when he left the room. The desk was empty. He dug his knife across the wood, leaving the same three stripes digging into the mahogany.
Klaus paced around the room, trying to decide what else to do, when something caught his eye. there was a gift bag with a few bottles of red wine sitting on a table. He fumbled through his keys to find a corkscrew to pry the tops off, then he poured the first bottle out on the white sheets of Damon's bed, and the second one all over the carpet. The deep red splattered across the meticulously clean carpet and left patters that were unmistakably suggestive of bloodshed. Finally, he caught sight of a few framed photos on the wall. One of them was of the two brothers and their father, the other was of Damon with the Gilbert girl. Klaus found a pen on the desk and drew an 'x' over each face.
Satisfied with his work, he slipped out. It was enough for now. He had someone to get home to.
Elijah was on the phone, pacing around the guest room while Caroline sat on the bed with a book in front of her.
"Yes, I'm sure Spain is lovely Bekah, but I have things to do, and Niklaus seems to be taking his time... I understand your friend invited you, but I have more pressing matters... no of course your happiness is important to me, just... Bekah, I can't keep cooped up in this house, mother's driving me up a wall"
"How do you think I feel?" Caroline grumbled.
He shot her a look that made her clamp her mouth shut and went back to his phone call.
"No Bekah, she's not causing any trouble... honestly, I'm surprised you have any friends left with an attitude like that...now don't start...fine...very well...goodbye."
He sighed as he put the phone down and collapsed into one of the chairs in the room, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The phone rang again and Elijah groaned as he reached for it, keeping his eyes closed.
"What now, Bek- oh."
He opened his eyes and looked at Caroline.
"Yes, buzz him in." He said to the phone.
Caroline tilted her head, waiting for an explanation.
Elijah hung up the phone.
"Niklaus is at the gate. He's back."
She tore out of the room and ran down the stairs.
A/N - sorry for the lack of Klaroline in this chapter, I promise the next one will be full of it. Now that these two are finally going to be face to face again, they've got a lot to work through. Again, thank you all so much for reading and leaving reviews. I love seeing them, they make my day.
