I don't own the vampires diaries.
Face claim for Niklaus Mikaelson : Matteo Martari
face claim bonnie bennett: Kat Graham
Thanks for the reviews
Please, review!
Chapter I:
"Once a woman has forgiven her man, she must not reheat his sins for breakfast."
Marlene Dietrich
.
.
Bonnie's soul is empty, and the exhaustive nature of her day adds to her displeasure. She removes her slippers, and she drags her stocking off her legs.
"Grams?" She calls when her grandmother does not welcome her with a long tirade about her miserable life.
Bonnie shakes her head to clear her mind. She knows how ungrateful it sounds. Sheila has considerably helped since Enzo's death. However, Bonnie has every reason to be bitter against the world. Her late husband left her to fend for herself in an impossible situation.
"Shush," Sheila walks out of the room," don't wake him up." She continues with a frustrated tone. "Of course, you didn't notice that the entire building is sleeping."
Bonnie sighs and she prepares herself for endless hours of lectures. She grudgingly walks to the sofa, and she sinks in the uncomfortable seat. Bonnie drags her feet toward her, and she begins to massage the ache away.
"I can't say no to extra hours. We need every dollar," Bonnie replies, and she closes her eyes to rest for a second.
"If you had married young Lucas, you would not be in this situation. He has a good job, and…"
Bonnie groans and she leaves the sofa. She walks to the fridge, and like everything else in her life, it is a source of disappointment and worry. She picks the handmade peanut butter and two slices of bread, which are hours away from rotting.
"Enzo is dead," Bonnie bitterly repeats for the umpteenth time. "Why do you always bring it back to who I married?" She asks with unhidden frustration.
Bonnie does not need a reminder of her mistake. Three years lived as Mrs Saint John has made it painfully clear, and the days following his death only added to her amount of regrets.
"Because it is the reason why you're unhappy," Sheila is painfully honest.
Bonnie sighs, and she dispassionately chews on her sandwich.
"No one is happy in this damn country," She retorts.
"Watch your mouth, chile," Sheila warns, "did you learn this foul language around these people? These big cities are only good at undoing education. I didn't raise you to speak like one of those girls." She adds with a disapproving look.
Bonnie swallows her sandwich, and she has no energy to argue with her grandmother. After working until ten p.m., she only wants a dreamless sleep.
"I'm sorry, Grams." She slowly returns to the sofa, "I… I have a lot on my mind. Enzo...well. Enzo did what he did best. He created a situation that I have to fix."
"Hmmm…"
Sheila throws a look, which speaks volume. She sits on the couch, and she waits for Bonnie to continue her explanation.
"Thirty-five thousand dollars," Bonnie inhales to calm her nerves, and she cannot scream with their paper-thin walls. She does not want the neighbours to know her troubles, and she won't sleep if Matthew wakes up. "He had to go and owe money to the worst type of people." She shoves her palms in her eyes, and she squeezes until she feels better than she did five seconds ago.
Bonnie has asked around the neighbourhood, and Klaus Mikaelson is not a man to play games with over money. She does not want anything to do with the mob.
"How do I pay all of that money in four days?"
She lost two days disregarding the threat looming over her head. Now with a better perspective on Niklaus Mikaelson, Bonnie is terrified.
"That good for nothing man, who you married, would continue to be trouble even in his grave. I knew you needed to leave this city. You're coming home with me," Sheila says with a firm voice.
Bonnie chuckles, and her reaction is awkward. However, she is exhausted. Many reasons made her leave Mystic falls. She would only return in that town to bury her grandmother. When she reached eighteen years old, Bonnie left Mystic falls as her mother did many years ago. Each year growing in that racist small town made her understand her mother's departure.
"I'm never coming back to Mystic Falls, Grams," Bonnie replies when she finishes laughing.
Sheila stares at her with the same displeased expression, which she has around her granddaughter since the fateful day Bonnie left home to pursue her dream.
"Coloured girls like you do not make it to Hollywood. Yes, you know how to dance. You are gorgeous, but your skin is still too dark. It has been five years. When are you going to understand? "Sheila retorts.
Between the two women, silence stretches. Matthew cries are a welcomed truce. Bonnie stands, and she addresses one last look to her grandmother.
"Mystic Falls does not allow coloured girls like me to breathe everyone's air. If you like it so much, you should return as soon as you can." Bonnie quietly says, and she means every word.
"Who would help with lil' Matthew while you kill yourself working?"
Sheila stands, and she begins to head toward the room where Matthew's cries become increasingly loud.
"I will take care of my son. I was a single mother long before Enzo's death." Bonnie forcefully says, and she puts her hand between Sheila and the room. "You should go home, Grams."
"An accident?" Bonnie stutters, and it is as much her frustration that she can rightfully express.
"A few witnesses have confirmed that your husband's death was an unfortunate accident." The officer repeats his statement.
Bonnie wants to shout her anger at the man's face, but she cannot. She cannot afford the consequence of such actions.
"An accident," The word tastes bitter on her tongue.
She never heard of a man stabbed multiple times in an accident. Bonnie holds her breath, and she wants the horrid image of Enzo's corpse out of her mind. She does not know what infuriates her further in her situation, the lack of justice for her dead husband or the fact she lost precious hours and incomes to attend this meeting.
Out of frustration, the tears fall. She immediately wipes them. Bonnie over-fills her lungs with putrid air. She remains seated to hear what else they can tell her to ruin her day.
"We're closing the case," she hears more than she listens. "Here, your husband's properties." He drops the plastic bags in her hand.
What properties did the fool possess? Enzo had nothing, and it is a problem. Enzo had many issues and debts. Bonnie inherited all of his difficulties.
Bonnie opens the plastic bag, and she finds clothes. Enzo's clothes are of better quality than those she and Matthew wear. Enzo was selfish. He used the money for his gambling habits. She wipes her stubborn tears. Somewhere in those five years, Bonnie loved Enzo.
"An accident," Bonnie groans, and her anger refuses to ease in a dull sensation.
She stares at Enzo's shirt. The blood has dried on it and changed the fabric's colour. From the many tears, she begins to count the number of accidental wounds, which he received. Bonnie stops counting at twenty-three, and she needs to breathe. She has to wipe her tears. Bonnie stares at Enzo's torn shirt, and she must do something to breathe. She must express her anger.
"An accident," Bonnie yells as she begins to march out of the precinct.
Bonnie walks into the marbled building with the plastic bag containing Enzo's properties. She should go home, and the looks, which follow her, say as much when she meets them. Bonnie, in no manner, belongs to this place.
Even with her elegant polka dot dress, she could pass for a beggar standing near the women filling the office building's walls. The security service miraculously allows her to move around the place.
"Can I help you, missus?" The receptionist asks her.
Bonnie hesitates, and she should return home. She tightens her hold of the plastic bag.
"I would like to see Mr Niklaus Mikaelson," Bonnie bravely replies.
The receptionist looks at Bonnie. Her blue eyes swell with disdain. She sucks her teeth, and Bonnie can already hear the answer. She remembers the time when she came to offices as fancy as this one to look for a job. Her castings always ended with the same amicable smile and a promise for a call, which would never come.
"Mrs Saint John," Bonnie rushes to say, "I have an appointment with Niklaus Mikaelson."
The receptionist does not reply, nor does she show any interest in Bonnie's claim. She picks the phone, and she places a call.
"Yes, Mrs Saint John." She says with a kinder tone than the one, which she used with Bonnie, "Yes…" She throws a look toward Bonnie, and she hangs up. "Fourteenth floor, ma'am."
Bonnie offers a tight smile, and she heads toward the elevator.
"Hello," Bonnie says when she recognises the brunette woman who was with Klaus at Enzo's funeral.
She does not spare Bonnie a look, and she passes without returning the greeting. Bonnie looks at the woman walking away, and her eyes linger with envy on the soft silk of her dress.
"Mrs Saint John?"
Bonnie abruptly turns to meet the source of the call. Klaus stands in front of her always too tall, intimidating, and present in her personal space. Bonnie takes a step backwards.
"I heard we had an appointment, doll," Klaus says with a small smile. Bonnie follows the dance of his fingers on the fabric of his shirt while he closes the button of his wrinkled shirt.
"Forgive my dishevelled appearance. I look better for the guests I expect."
Now, Bonnie understands his partner's displeased mood. Bonnie does not instantly react. Klaus' aura slows her mind. He does appear to be unfazed by her embarrassment. As he did three nights ago, Klaus places his hand in the small of Bonnie's back.
"I trust we will have a more sensible conversation in my office." He says while he has already prompted her to cross the door with his guiding hand.
"What brings you here, doll face?" He asks while he nonchalantly sinks in his chair. "I gave you a whole week, and here, you are early." He grabs his cigarette box, and he offers Bonnie one, which she ignores.
"You paid the police to classify his murder as an accident," Bonnie says when she retrieves her wit.
She spoke the words with anger. His reaction is rather mild in regards to her fury. She is on her feet while he blows circles of smoke. Klaus is unsettlingly calm and amused at best.
"All or nothing," Klaus says with a fleeting smirk. "We can talk about my umbrella, or we can talk about me corrupting the cops. Why would we go through the trouble of small talks if we can sink our teeth into the heart of the issue?" He chuckles, "Though you would have to excuse me. What murder am I concealing?"
"Fifty-seven wounds," She ultimately counted every tear on Enzo's shirt, "An accident, that's it." Bonnie throws Enzo's shirt on Klaus' desk.
Klaus eyes the shirt, and he returns his attention to a furious Bonnie. He leaves his chair, and Bonnie's anger engrossed her too much to care for Klaus moving around his office. She paces back and forth.
"You murdered him, and it is an accident." She mumbles.
"Sit, doll." His tone is pleasant.
The softer quality of his voice is more due to the accentuation of his deep voice than to tenderness. However, Klaus has given Bonnie an order, which he would see carried out. She continues to pace. He grows annoyed.
"I have manhandled men ten times your size for little less than hysteric words and insults, which they throw at me." He casually tells her, and once again, his arm envelops her lower waist. "Sit, doll." He says in a whisper in the hole of her ear.
Bonnie immediately does, and he sits a tumbler before her.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but knives are too primitive for my liking." Klaus coolly says, "And you are well aware that your husband was not the most likeable person. You married him. In the flock of his enemy, I'm the one who could care less about Enzo Saint John. I would not kill him for thirty-five thousand dollars. I try to keep my hands clean." He stops to sip on his scotch, "This," his fingers travel between Bonnie and him," This is not something, which I appreciate doing. Taking little money from a helpless woman is not my thing, but your husband screwed me over by dying." He drains his tumbler.
Klaus drags Bonnie's chair impossibly close to him, and he bends until they are at eye level. His oddly shaped nose is almost at the reach of her lips, and the scrutiny of those piercing green irises is unbearable to Bonnie.
"I don't like being screwed." He pointedly says. "Do we understand each other?"
Bonnie nods, and she has to focus on his perfume to maintain a facade of countenance. She almost jumps out of her skin when his knuckles graze her hand as he rises to his full height.
"Then you're free to go, doll face."
Bonnie does not leave. Between her jelly legs and her galloping heart, standing is a physically impossible task. Her hand closes around the tumbler, which he offered. She drains it in one gulp, and she spends a few minutes coughing out her lung. Although, the burn in her throat brings comfort.
"I don't have thirty-five thousand dollars." She says with a voice rendered husky by suppressed tears and the burn of scotch. "I'm not trying to screw you over, Mr Mikaelson."
Klaus crouches, and he looks at her. She cannot explain his facial expression. It is almost kind.
"Then I will accept any form of ingenious payment, Bonnie." He states with a unique drawl on her name as if he has always said her name, "Wisely use your remaining days of clemency." His hands come to rest on her shoulders, and she almost leans in his warmth.
It lasts a few minutes, and she finds the strength to her to stand. She stands with every intention not to say or hear more on the matter.
"Ah!" Klaus sighs when Bonnie reaches the door, "how unkind of me," He walks up to Bonnie. "Perhaps, you would like to talk to Caroline Forbes. She is one of the witnesses who insisted on the theses of the accident. I heard she was in his company when he accidentally died. "He lips part into a grin, and he takes Bonnie's hand. "The address." He finishes writing the address on Bonnie's wrist. "It was a pleasure meeting you again, doll."
Bonnie does not reply. She picks Enzo's shirt, and she leaves Klaus' office. She glances one last time at the man who stands bigger than nature.
Klaus' implications are ridiculous, and Bonnie repeats it to herself as much as she can. She breastfeeds Matthew, and she forces the thought away. Bonnie bathes her son, and for a few minutes, the thought vanishes.
However, it returns when she rocks Matthew to sleep. She looks at the clock, and she has to work in the morning. It is no time to bother Mrs Gianluca, and Grams left as she asked. Bonnie should not stare at her wrist. She should continue to brush her son's hair.
However, she delicately puts Matthew on her bed. Bonnie opens her side of the wardrobe, and she carefully keeps Enzo's part closed. She does not want to see any of his clothes after seeing his blood-soaked shirt. She has not touched any of his stuff since she identified his dead body.
She picks her prettiest dress because she must choose her most beautiful dress. She sits in front of her mirror, and she has not worn make-up since she got pregnant from Matthew. She does not look at her curvy body because it has been seven months since she cannot recognise her silhouette. She wears her soft fake silk dress, and it comes to rest on her ankles. Bonnie wears her gloves, and she grabs her fanciest hat. She adds red on her lips. She picks Matthew, and she walks up to three blocks near her building.
She checks her wrist, and it is the right address.
Bonnie knocks at the door. It is at approximately midnight. When the door opens on the woman, Bonnie immediately knows. She recognises the blonde woman who cried at her husband's funeral more than she did. She remembers the woman who probably would have believed Enzo was a good man.
"Bonnie Saint John," she extends her hand, which does not support the weight of her son. "The wife." She supplements after a few seconds of heavy silence.
"Caroline Forbes," she moves away from the door, and she lets Bonnie inside the home where Enzo might have gone some nights.
"I didn't…" Caroline hesitates. "Do you want a drink?" She places a glass of water before an empty chair, which she wants Bonnie to take.
They look at each other for a few minutes. The heavy breathing fills the room.
"He loved you?" Bonnie dared to ask, and she is too exhausted for anger.
"I think he did." Caroline replies, "He said he did." She adds after a minute.
Bonnie laughs, and she needs her emotions to come out. It is a quiet disillusioned laugh. It is heavily oozing with pain. She looks at Caroline who is a gorgeous woman. It almost makes sense.
"Enzo lies," Bonnie replies, "He loved me too. He adored me at one point before you and maybe after you. He lies." She wipes the tears, which threaten to fall.
She rocks Matthew to keep him asleep. She does it to keep a sane mind. She stares at her wrist, and she brings her thumb to her lips. She begins to wipe Caroline's address.
"An accident?" Bonnie questions when she finishes crying and cleaning Caroline's address.
Caroline sips water, and she twists her fingers.
"I don't want his mess on my porch," She replies with a heavy sigh, "Enzo liked fucked up situations."
Bonnie laughs, and she would like to have the same options. Her porch is full of Enzo's mayhem.
"I guess," Bonnie says, and she has heard what she needed to hear.
Bonnie stands, and she silently heads toward the exit. Caroline is behind her. They don't say much, and they would never have enough time to talk about him.
"He loved you;" Caroline says when Bonnie is on the porch, "Enzo, he loved you in his way." She continues, "He was a good man." She finishes.
Bonnie looks at Caroline, and for once, she recognises an expression, which has worn every day since Enzo's death. It follows the bitter taste of a lie told for a loved one who is no longer present.
"At one point, he did" Bonnie admits," maybe four years ago, he was a good man."