Disclaimer: standard

Warning: incest, violence, *cannon character death*

Summary: Someone won't make it out alive...


Chapter 28

The Best Laid Schemes

"Arbitrary power is like most other things which are very hard, very liable to be broken."

~ Abigail Adams

"In this world let me have my world, to be damned with it or to be saved."

~ Richard Wagner, Tristan and Isolde


Shadows danced around them as the lantern swung about outside the alcove, discordant sounds hammering inside his skull…. a staccato of trickling water, a ringing in his ears, and his own labored breaths. It was a splitting headache, too much, too loud…He clutched the knife handle, sure that the monster would turn around at any second.

His head swam, his muscles screaming as he forced them to move, reaching for a crag in the wall. With a grim certainty, he knew that he wouldn't stand a chance…not in his current state, and with only a kitchen knife. And if someone else was out there, in the tunnel…

No…He couldn't let himself think that way. Even if the troop had arrived, even if they'd discovered Sunny's hiding place, they wouldn't be able to reach her.

He could remember their first confrontation with Olaf, and she only a baby… She bit him… And then, under the porch, little more than an hour ago...Sunny didn't give a warning, didn't hesitate to defend herself. She'll bite first… and… ask questions later.

Yet, she had threatened to bite whoever found her…

Realization dawned on him then. She's safe…she's still safe. She was trying to help us. His brilliant little sister.

He tried to stand, nearly lost his balance, and he leaned against the wall to steady himself. His vision narrowed, the world coming back into focus. And he could see a thin trail of light, seeping into the chamber, a tall, sinister form, looming in the entryway.

Olaf…

He had been arrogant enough to think he'd won…to turn his back on them…

It's not over yet.

Klaus set his sights on him, the knife heavy in his hand. He was no soldier, no broad-shouldered combatant; he felt half-dead already, as if his lungs were on fire. But he wouldn't stop, could never be deterred from this…not when Violet needed him.

And he knew, now, that he could kill.

Olaf still carried the electric prod, still wore the body armor on his chest. I'll have to outmaneuver him... I need a plan, but there's no time.

And then he remembered.

The medical texts in his parents' library… a detailed sketch…the blood vessels in a human arm… That's it…

It was all he could do, all he could hope for-deal a fatal wound, to free his sisters, before he would die.

His mind flashed to Violet then, to all that she'd been through, at Olaf's hands… A wave of strength came over him, like a cold wind- like clarity, raw and stringent.

He's not going to touch her again.


Violet could see him there, waiting in the shadows, the silver gleam of the knife at his side.

She struggled with the bolt once more, her arms aching with the strain, and she felt it give a little. Almost…almost there...The cuffs clinked against the metal bar then, jangling.

She held her breath.

But she saw Olaf turn, felt his eyes on her again. He heard it.

A dark shape darted past her suddenly, colliding with him, and she could only watch in horror…It was all a blur...

Her brother, stabbing with the knife, slashing at his arm…Olaf lunging with the prod, swinging blindly…

The lantern dropped, rolling to the side, and the light flickered. She couldn't see him anymore…

"Klaus!"

There was a crackling burst of electricity, of metal and blood.

Violet screamed as her brother was thrown to the ground.

Olaf pulled out the revolver, his heavy breaths rattling in the air. He cast a sidelong glance at his torn coat sleeve. And then, he blanched. Deep gashes stained his inner arm, below the shoulder, blood streaming down his side, to the floor.

Klaus felt the jagged stones beneath him, the wall at his back. There would be no escape for him, nowhere to run. But he was done with running. We all are, if I did it right…

"That's your brachial artery," he said. "You're bleeding out fast."

In disbelief, Olaf looked from the cuts to the boy who'd inflicted them with such deadly precision. It couldn't be…he was too close…He was in control.

But his life's blood was pouring from him, even as he stood there.

"Very well," he ground out, almost wheezing. "Didn't I say… I'll take one of you with me?" His eyes were manic, black with madness. "You've made your choice."

Klaus shut his eyes, braced for the impact of a bullet.

But it didn't come.

There was a loud, metallic clang, a shriek as something slammed hard into Olaf, knocking him backward. He staggered, bent in half under the attack, the round he'd fired too late blasting his ankle. Before he could move, a sharp blow to the head sent him crashing, to land with a resounding thud.

Blinking in shock, Klaus tried to find his bearings. Blood was everywhere, spattered on him, and the rocks and ... "Violet," he gasped, wide-eyed.

She was like a statue, the brass pole from the headboard clenched in her hands. Shudders wracked her body then, the bar fell, clattering, and she faltered.

He caught her as she collapsed, eased her down beside him. "Vi, it's okay, it's okay," he said, ignoring the pang in his shoulder. "It's over." But she seemed deaf to his words.

She was freezing… He found his jacket, draped it around her shoulders, but still her body shook. He drew her close then, to warm her, resisting the urge to crush her in his arms.

He could see her drifting, fading in and out, her eyes haunted, shrouded in horror. "Violet…Vi, stay with me. "

She clutched his arms, wild-eyed and terrified. "You have to get Sunny. What if she…if she's…"

"She's still hiding," he said. "I'm sure of it. She's safe, Vi."

"Just find her, please." She burst into sobs.

He ran a hand over her hair, kissed the top of her head as she huddled against him. "It's over," he said again. "We're safe now. Violet, we're safe."

His eyes fell to Olaf then. He had to be sure…

"Vi…" He took her face in his hands, gently. "I'm going to get Sunny. I'll be right back."

"Klaus, I don't want her to see this…I don't want her to see us…not like this…"

He sighed, his shoulders heavy with the weight of renewed guilt. How could they prevent it? We can't just leave her out there.

As one, they turned to look at Olaf's crumpled form…the lifeless body of a monster. For too long, they'd been running from him, fearing his return. And now, there he was...a broken shell of a man… a pitiful figure. But he had nearly destroyed them all.

It seemed impossible that anyone could be so terrible in life, so prolific in cruelty. How many bodies had he left in his wake? How many lives had been ruined by his lust for power, his greed?

How many people had he killed, to get to them?

Slowly, Klaus disentangled himself from her, and he picked up the revolver. He checked for a pulse, felt nothing. But he had to be sure.

He squeezed the trigger, unloading the gun into Olaf's head, until it was empty. Once, twice, and he lost count, barely aware of the sound.

It was over.

The monster had her ribbon, tucked in the inside pocket of his coat, along with a bottle opener and a set of dangling keys. One seemed to be the proper size for the handcuffs. It couldn't be a coincidence. He had the key. He had it all along…

The guilt intensified when he looked to her again, the burst of gunfire still ringing in the cavern. I should've warned her. But she only returned his gaze, numbly.

"He's dead, Vi." He couldn't believe the words, even as he said them. "He's dead."

Fear singed him when she didn't answer. She's going into shock.

His hand brushed against her arm, carefully, to remove the cuffs. "Let's get these off."

Bone-deep bruises lined her slender wrists, made him wish that dead men could be killed again. Scarcely an inch of her skin had been left undamaged.

She felt the cold, biting metal lift away, her palms tingling at his touch, as he rubbed the circulation back into her fingers. She remembered those hands…sliding over her, into her…

Her senses returned in a rush, like a splash of water. Gray stone walls and dim, flickering light…the smell of blood prickling at her nose. Klaus was there, holding her, and she hadn't imagined it. He was real.

And, all at once, she knew what they had done.

Her fingers twisted in his shirt. "We're murderers, Klaus."

"No, we're not," his voice was firm, his eyes intent on hers. "We're not like them. We're not murderers."

"What are we, then?"

He felt a pain in his throat. It hurt too much to see the ache in her, the inner grief and torment.

"Alive," he said. "We're alive."

She closed her eyes then, sinking gratefully into his arms. It was over.