The promise of ice cream was not one Hope Mikaleson took very lightly, this was one thing Klaus knew for a fact about his daughter. She would surely grow up to be as stubborn as her parents, of this there was no doubt amongst their family. So of course, when the macabre ordeal of stealing her blood was over, which Hope thought to only be so magical -the redundancy wasn't lost on anybody- his child was only thinking of the sweets and salties and where to get them.
Hayley obviously wanted a drink and so did he. But in this case, and as was often, parenthood wasn't exactly a democracy. So sugar would have to do.
They stumbled about until finally, they reached the quaint family restaurant Klaus had destroyed in its entirety a number of years ago. He'd done it only out of spite; it had been Marcel's favorite and at the time, he had been at war with his protegée. His minions had informed him a year ago that a middle aged witch had bought it, and every couple of months she had contracts drafted to change ownership of the place as if it were a private residence, just to ensure the restaurant had the visitors they preferred. This meant: no vampires allowed, ah, and no hybrids either.
Yes, there was an actual sign. A subtle one, with little drawings instead of words, but it was there.
Naturally, Davina had taken keen pleasure in introducing Hope to the place when Kol and she had visited a while ago. Freya took her from time to time, but now, well, Klaus thought, his sister and he were in no terms to arrange a babysitting session. He highly doubted Hayley would allow it even if he did agree. Either way, now they waited in line for the restaurant.
He didn't know about the food, and was rather appalled to see the turnout. Maybe all these people were also the super-duper fans of their ice cream Hope said she was. "Yes, dad, super-duper." Hope had insisted, as if fighting for the title. He nodded at her, and apologized for being so unsupportive.
He hadn't expected to be recognized by the new generation of the supernaturally aware in New Orleans, but the hostess at the entrance, who couldn't be older than fifteen -seriously- widened her eyes when she spotted him and Hayley at the foot of the door. He sensed the girl was very much human, and not magically gifted by any means.
"What?" Hayley spat at the starer, and her face was without emotion, only her brows furrowing. That same face, he remembered, that she'd always had when they'd first met back in Mystic Falls. Ah yes, brooding teenager was the name of the expression.
He raised a brow at the other hybrid, and she gave him a look, like an indication he wasn't sure he was following. The child-hostess paled, and gaped at them. He smirked, right, so she was afraid and Hayley had seen it first.
How fun. Kol on a good day fun. Messing with Elijah's drycleaning fun.
He understood now, and gave Hayley a short nod, she smirked back at him. He supposed they deserved a little relief of what their day had been so far; they deserved to forget about it for a second, at least. Hope was silently taking more crayons than was allowed from the little cup at the entrance, he smiled at this too.
"Uh...uh," the girl's hands were shaking, "I'm sorry, Mr. Mikaleson," Hayley looked away, her shoulders shaking with laughter. He raised a brow, Mr. Mikaleson? The owner of this place must really want to keep it. "There's this rule and- and well, you can't come in."
"Unacceptable," he said at once, straightening on his frame, "I want to speak to your manager."
The couple behind them groaned and Hope looked back at them with half a smile on, muttering a, "Sorry." He smiled at his daughter again.
"No, no, we want to speak to the owner. This is outrageous." Hayley joined, looking much more like the young, not to be taken lightly, alpha that she was. Still, there was a ring to her voice that suggested she wasn't being all that serious.
The hostess' mouth had remained open and gawking, she started stuttering. But then, as if she recognized the way out that it was, she nodded and retrieved to do as she had been told.
"See, love?" He addressed his daughter as she took hold of his hand, "Fun."
"Yes, dad," Hope said, with a smile of her own. "Can we get ice cream soon?"
"Yes, baby." Hayley answered, slightly bending towards the door, in search of the returning people.
Seconds later, a couple came rushing down the doors that seemed to lead to the kitchen, the hostess pointing to where the Mikaelsons were. One, a short redhead; the other, a tall and lanky man narrowing his eyes. The latter's face shifted for a second and then he shook his head aggressively, "God no, I'm not doing this," the man told his companions and made a show of going back through the kitchen doors.
The redhead sighed, and fidgeted with her fingers, then she made a wave to his underage worker and started walking towards them. She had a rather convincing smile on her face, Klaus would have to give her props for that if the topic came up organically.
"What do you say? We have nowhere else to be…" Hayley whispered to him, grinning.
"Let's make a scene, shall we?"
He guessed there was no point in reminding her about Elijah's mandatory strategic meeting. He didn't feel much like tunning out his brother today, much less actually paying attention to what he was saying. He'd proposed giving Josh more responsibility, again, and it was getting exhausting that of making up excuses to refuse his requests. Then, if his memory served, his brother also wanted to arrange a quick and tidy coup with the human faction representative at the next council meeting. Klaus simply didn't have the heart to tell him that, somehow, he knew the man wouldn't live past next month.
How did he know this? Oh, just secrets of the trade.
The redhead's feet stopped just in the dividing line of the threshold, and hummed, like the gracious host she probably was to any other customer. Klaus thought long and hard to recall if he knew her, but came up empty. After a while, faces just blurred into more faces, though still, he could see she was so obviously a witch.
"Hello," she greeted, "I apologize, but we're very clear with our right to deny entrance to anyone we want. We've had issues in the past, you understand," she stated, very pointedly. Klaus rolled his eyes.
"Oh?" Klaus inquired, plastering on an annoyingly innocent smile.
"It wasn't even yours then," Hayley spoke up, catching onto the underlining. "See, he even did you a favour, this place couldn't have been very...expensive, could it?"
The redhead stuck her nose in the air, as if she had been insulted. "Still. Look, there's a sign."
Hayley turned her head to the sign on the window, which Klaus had already read and conveniently ignored. The couple who were still waiting behind them snapped their heads at the poster too. The man, Glasses, Klaus decided to call, said, "No dogs?"
Klaus chuckled very fakely and patted the man on the shoulder, who almost fell over with the force of the action, "No, mate, no vampires allowed. That rather pathetic attempt to conceptualize a wolf means, no hybrids either."
The other half of the couple giggled, "You're joking," she said, waving a dismissing hand. Klaus raised a brow.
"Yes, we're just incurable fans of Twilight. Team Edward and so on," he answered, tone flat.
"I've always thought Jacob was better, actually." A whiny voice said, and everyone turned their attention to the hostess, who had just returned from accepting she could probably die today, oh and look at that, she was restocking the crayons too.
"She's clueless, Klaus, leave her alone," the redhead said in regard to her employee. It seemed, also, that she hadn't been the least put off by the distraction.
"No more Mr. Mikaelson, then?" Hayley jumped in, she was so clearly enjoying herself. "And yes, your employee is, as you say, clueless. She's back here after all."
The redhead's jaw twitched, and the teenage girl by her side started waving her hand at Hope, who by now had taken one of the paper menus for show and was drawing on them.
"What do you want?" The owner asked through gritted teeth, no more was the phony hospitality. Klaus thought, that was more like it.
"Ice cream," Klaus said, shrugging as he started examining the windows with a clinical eye. The redhead did a double take, she looked genuinely surprised. "You do see, our child has joined us today? Hardly the team one would assemble to...oh, I don't know, plan grand arsen."
"Hope, say hello." Hayley interjected, and Hope, on the floor, made a half-hearted wave to the witch. The redhead in turn, looked very confused. "We decided to take a break from mass destruction today. Family time really is so important."
"It is," Glasses' girlfriend agreed. Klaus sighed.
"So, would it be horribly offending if you just let us in now," he waved his hand inside, and then narrowed her eyes on the redhead, like a challenge. As a change of demeanor seemed to be in order, "Or would you rather I compel your hostess to let me in, as she is, so clearly, the owner of this establishment for the next couple of weeks." Everyone turned to him with wide eyes, like he'd shown some unfathomable level of skill, when in reality all he'd done was pay attention. "And please, do spare us the argument with the vervain, my powers are obviously stronger than whatever two drops a day she's been ingesting," he turned to address the hostess alone. "Sweetheart, do the math, you need more if you're to keep the demons at bay, you should know better." And the teenager nodded, very ashamed of herself.
The witch's face was beginning to match the color of her hair. For a moment, the woman's features reminded him of his mother, and he fought to suppress a shiver. This made him think about where exactly they had buried Esther, ah but no, that's right, she had exploded into ash alongside lovely aunt Dahlia. And his father, he had made sure, had burst into flames, with a certain finality. Klaus shook his head, this simply wasn't the time to reminisce about such happy times.
So the owner was fuming and desperately searching for her words, clearly, when Hayley spoke again, "You know, now that we've had the time to look around your establishment, were you not aware those two gentlemen in the back are very much dead?"
"Dead?" The owner paused in her anger and turned around to the people Hayley was pointing to. There were two boys, in their teens of course, who were eating from the same bowl of ice cream and sprawling along the booth like they owned the place themselves. And this, with the audacity to be drinking from a hot pink flask.
Klaus smirked, and mouthed to Hayley, Fun, before he returned his attention to the matter at hand. As so obviously, that smugness could only be linked to vampirism, nothing else in the world made people so utterly cocky. Imagine, being immortal.
"They're alive," the hostess said, with a frown, trying to figure out the joke. Very slow, indeed.
"They're not, actually, not in every sense of the word. And either they made the same conclusion I did when it comes to your marvellous gate keeper here, or she let them in on her own volition." He made a show of looking like he was actually very much concerned of what the answer was, but at last, Hayley swatted him on the shoulder to stop.
"So these boys," she paused and looked at something intently, "Clorissa," ah, the name tag; how unfortunate, "Do they go to school with you, or was this just a favor?"
"Clorissa!" the redhead yelped, scandalized, "Did you know what they were?"
Klaus rolled his eyes. What did poor Clorissa have to do with anything, really. The fact of the matter remained, he and his family were being denied entrance because they were so...high profile, was that it? And all the while annoying little vampire school boys got around the ridiculous and not so definitive, as it turned out, sign.
Of course, they could've gotten the ice cream somewhere else, teaching Hope not to be so picky while they're at it. Or if not that, perhaps just ask, very politely, to have the ice cream to go and leave these people to the rest of their day in peace. Glasses and his girlfriend would've already been halfway through their meal and Clorissa, the underage hostess, might've been flirting with vampires all the while blissfully unaware they probably just wanted to kill her.
But that wasn't fun, or entertaining. And he needed this right now, so did Hayley. Pestering some poor woman into letting them into her restaurant and probably saving Clorissa's life in the process. It was the most fun they could get without going tourist hunting while under the influence of whatever Kol was not so secretly cooking in the basement.
"You know," Klaus started, interrupting the scolding the redhead had been so immersed in, "you could, say, let us in, give my daughter a sundae or whatever her heart desires. And then, we," he said, pointing to himself and Hayley, "can handle the involuntary infestation you seem to have on your hands- oh, look, there's another two I just counted."
Hayley snorted, this time without hiding it, but nodded at the redhead her agreement, "Half the customers you're serving right now, actually, come to monthly staff meetings with Nik here."
Klaus closed his eyes for a second in consideration of what he'd just heard, "Nik?" he repeated, with a grimace.
"What, I'm not allowed to call you that now? Is there a membership I'm supposed to buy or something?" Hayley questioned, scowling, as she seemed actually upset and had her hands on her hips. "Have I not earned it?"
He gulped, not sure if this was a joke, but he didn't pause long in pondering, "It's not something you earn, per se, Hayley. But really, only people who met me before the sixteenth century call me that. It's when I started wearing my hair short, which coincidentally is when I had the daggers made-"
"It's called a midlife crisis, Klaus," she told him, rolling her eyes. And he could see they'd gained the undivided attention of Glasses and the likes. All but Hope, who went on drawing on the paper menus.
"See, that just sounds much more natural with you. Besides, it's unnecessarily troubling-"
"You're ridiculous," she interrupted once more, "just so you know, it's Nik from now on, just to spite you. Yes, you did that." He raised a brow, and she raised her own. It would've been fitting if something had burst in the background, but then he just shrugged.
"Fine, Hails." Hope did look up at this; he supposed it even sounded awfully wrong to his own daughter.
"Hails? Don't you dare, Klaus Mikaelson." She sounded very serious, almost incredibly so, which made him think she very much was. Being serious, that is. So he smirked, believing he had made his point. "Alright, I get it," she conceded, finally.
Glasses cleared his throat; uncannily subtle this man, Klaus thought. He wondered if he had any interest in becoming immortal, maybe he could give him the recently unfilled position of being Kol Mikaelson's secret handler. Yes, unfortunately his brother had found the last one out; the funeral was at nine tomorrow, he believed.
"So, regarding the- the infestation?" The redhead ventured to ask; eyes wide and hands clasped.
"Right," Hayley said, "we can rid you of the existential cockroaches, but only if you let us in." Klaus nodded as a way of backing up. "And if you're worried about Nik here," she waited for his argument, but it never came, "destroying your lovely business, rest your mind, our daughter loves your ice cream, honestly. I'd kill him before he dared bring displeasure to Hope." Klaus nodded again, fighting the urge to let his head hang in sudden exhaustion.
The owner cleared her throat, and she looked very pained when she addressed her hostess, "Clorissa, dear, will you do the honors then."
Clorissa smiled, full-heartedly, as it almost seemed she had decided they were all friends now. Poor girl then, she really was clueless. "Please, come in."
/
Caroline had decided to leave the apartment, yes still the and not hers, because that would imply some sort of permanency she wasn't yet ready to consider. Well, she decided to leave it without her best friends' knowledge, not that they would have very nice things to say about her date with Rebekah Mikaleson. Honestly, she didn't either.
She could immediately imagine Elena saying, oh, but she threw me off a bridge. And while that was very much true, Caroline could admit to herself that holding grudges at this point, it just didn't make sense. She'd attended Katherine's farewell party when she thought she was dying and not preparing to possess her friend, hadn't she?
But then for every, she threw me off a bridge, there were a hundred, he snapped my neck, or about fifty different anecdotes of attempted murder. And really, who had the time. She remained convinced that moving on was an art, not a fine art, but an art nonetheless.
She started walking in the direction her maps app was guiding her towards. It was halfway across town but the site's review gave the bar three stars. Not bad, she thought, but could deal with some improvement. She'd checked the comments section too, EmoPrincess2007 said she'd had to leave twice because a fairly attractive man -these were her words- really, had come in and yelled for everyone to leave; and somehow, the woman continued in her rant, everyone just had done as he'd said. There was another comment worth noting, though not as specific, by CuscusFan84, complaining of the vibe of the place, as if there was ever such a thing, saying it felt spooky, and that he had somehow appeared outside the place with no recollection of his getting there and an alarming amount of blood in his shoes. Huh, drunk people really have no sense of propriety these days, she thought.
All in all, it seemed like it was a decent place to get sloppy and emotional. Ah, and it said the customer service was outstanding too. Rousseau's, what a concept.
When she arrived -wearing the clothes she had stolen from Bonnie, because why would she actually ignore an actual request from Rebekah Mikaelson- the room felt cold for a second, as she registered the eyes of many on her, but she only brushed the sense of coming danger off of her. Clearly, this place was packed with vampires, she could feel it in her cuticles. And transparently so, they had just recognized she wasn't exactly fresh blood coming to ease their night, but rather a potential threat.
She was about to sit at the bar next to a fairly attractive older man and a frizzled hair someone, when she spotted Rebekah. The blonde-wonder was sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the fuzz, facing away from the kitchen that resembled more a ghost town than anything else. Rebekah was nursing a drink and battling with what looked like an internal confusion, but still she didn't look up when Caroline came to step on her line of sight.
"You know, it was obviously possible for me to look up this place and find it, but I could've used a little warning," she told Rebekah, almost huffing. As she wasn't actually upset, but just felt like complaining about something was the right way to start a conversation.
There was a frown, and then she finally looked up at Caroline. "A warning, what for?"
"That this place-" she looked around, and then took a seat from across Rebekah, leaning in to whisper, "this place is completely overflowing with vampires."
Rebekah narrowed her eyes at her, assessing, maybe counting percentages of alcohol in her head and double checking she wasn't drunk yet, but just tipsy. Then she smiled, and the laughter followed. A full minute she was laughing at Caroline. The people next to them turned with a glare and a complaint that almost left their lips, but upon noticing who it was that was causing the disturbance, they almost looked ready to offer an apology themselves.
Caroline rolled her eyes, she really didn't see what was so funny. When the original finally deemed it acceptable to calm down, one of her hoop earrings had inexplicably fallen off and it was nowhere to be found.
"Really, Caroline, as if your life- as if your person hasn't been overflowing with vampires for the last several years," she said, between recovering heaves. And Caroline only scoffed, not caring to make an act of being offended by her slyness. "And if you must know, the ones who come here are very old vampires, so they've got more self control than any puppy you've acquainted yourself with in your lifetime."
Caroline considered making a case of proving to Rebekah that her friends and she had always been marvelous supernaturals, but thought better of it. She'd seen the crime rate in her hometown and the open investigations of murders, and then also the many peers who had never gotten the chance to graduate because someone had gotten hungry or heartbroken and consequently unhinged. And then there were also the inexplicable fires; the little kids in the park finding hearts on the side of the slide, and a number of other things she knew were because of self control, or lack thereof, mostly.
"Fine, I'm sorry," she stated, sighing, but not actually caring, or meaning it. Rebekah raised a brow, she seemed to be having a great time already.
"Oh, not to me, love. You forget we all have superhero hearing. I bet they're all hurt you thought they were...what, low-life?"
"Rebekah," she tried to chastise, but already she could feel eyes on her. Apparently, some, if not all, had been eavesdropping. How very rude and yet how bad she felt about it too.
One of the people who had been about to yell at Rebekah to shut up just before, leaned into their conversation, "There's really no need, lady. It's fine." He said, with a smile. And now Caroline looked at him, he'd called her lady, like she could be old enough to be his mother or his teacher. But then, she supposed, nobody had any way of knowing how old everyone actually was. The group next to them seemed to be very much underage, but Caroline supposed they might as well be three-hundred-years-old for all she knew and cared. Honestly, this city.
She took a deep breath, and stood, giving Rebekah a death glare. "Everyone," she started, with her pageant smile. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you're all wonderful and I can't wait to make your acquaintance."
Rebekah had taken her phone out, and Caroline was pretty sure she was recording her, but said nothing.
"Hey," one voice said from the back. "Don't I know you from Painswick?" There was a pause, but the people who were with the person who spoke all made a sound of agreement. "Yes, yes, I do, how's Patrick?"
Caroline gaped, for a second, but gaped still. "Uh, well-" There were smiles, expectant and cheerful in her way. She wondered if this was just all a big prank orchestrated by Rebekah, as she was, after all, filming this experience very shamelessly. "Patrick...he's alright actually, just got a job in advertising. He loves it. Got into improv too."
Rebekah snickered by her side. The voice made a delighted sound, "Oh, send him my best, will you. And so glad you made it through the war by the way."
"You too, have a great night." And then she sat down; the other vampires in the bar no longer looked at her, nor they hissed at her like she was here to steal their gold. "What the hell were you doing recording me?" She asked Rebekah, trying to snatch her phone away from her.
"Mementos, and such," she said, so clearly lying, putting her phone in her bra and out of reach for good, lest they got very drunk. Caroline rolled her eyes. "Well, now that we've established no one will try to kill you for the night, would you care for a drink?"
Caroline considered, for a very small amount of time, and nodded, "Gin, if they have it."
"Of course they have it, we aren't savages, Caroline, for god's sake." As she was saying this, she raised her hand up slightly, flagging down a waiter.
"Should we begin?" Caroline asked, making herself comfortable on the wooden chair and clasping her hands on top of the table, Rebekah gave her a bored look.
"You make everything sound like a business meeting, love, please do relax." She said, turning sideways every second to, seemingly, check to see if they were getting any kind of service.
Caroline sighed again, pretending she hadn't spent half the afternoon writing down possible neutral discussions topics in the event things went awry between them. Or that she hadn't practiced in front of the mirror for half an hour as if she would be attending a particular interview for a job she wasn't in the least qualified to do.
"Fine. How was the hangover then?" She tried.
"Hangover?" She repeated, like it was such a ridiculous concept. "I no longer feel a thing when I'm being stabbed in the chest, do you honestly think I still care to experience hangovers?"
"I still get them," Caroline admitted, and was slightly impressed by what Rebekah had just said. She supposed it made sense, given how quickly their bodies recovered from any sort of injury, that their livers would do the same when being abused by toxic substances.
"It's just your brain's last effort to make you think you're human," she said, matter-of-factly. "It'll go away soon, don't worry."
It was strikingly worrisome to Caroline that she found no part of her was alarmed to hear this news. Maybe, she was finally accepting every aspect of being what she was, or maybe, she'd never truly trust a thing Rebekah said to her. Yes, the latter was the most convincing, wasn't it?
A man finally came over to their table, with a notepad and a beanie that she found didn't suit him in the least. Rebekah smirked at him and he smirked back, and Caroline soon found herself very uncomfortable, but made no sound.
"Paul, love, gin and tonic for my friend here, please." The man wrote it down without looking away from Rebekah. "Oh, and a refill for me."
"Sure," he said, with heavy breathing of some kind, and then left.
"Friend of yours?" Caroline asked, slightly disgusted by the very telling exchange and actually amused that she'd gotten to witness this.
"Yes," Rebekah replied, with a sigh. "We have...history."
"History," Caroline repeated, nodding, "you certainly seem to have history with a lot of people."
At this, Rebekah addressed her with an unimpressed look. And here is where it got interesting because the old Rebekah, the one Caroline had known, would've already started to throw tables at everything she deemed insulting. But, this Rebekah was taking everything like it was nothing more than a friendly comment. She sure still fired back though.
"As do you, love." She smiled. "I'm sure we don't want to have to make lists, now do we?"
Caroline bit her tongue until the waiter had come back with their drinks, and this time he swiftly made his exit without any lewd looks at Rebekah; he was probably very talented when it came to reading a room. The drink was exquisite too.
The bell on the door rang about five times, Caroline turned around to take in the clear bachelorette party that had just arrived. She inhaled sharply, knowing they'd just come in for an early grave. The one who was so obviously the bride, with a yellow penis on her hat and a veil, yelled something about getting fucked up and addressed her friends as sluts, and then proceeded to the bar.
"Don't worry," Rebekah told her, as if she could read her mind, or well, who knew if she could, actually, "there's a rule against consuming the locals. Else my brother takes away their firstborn or something of the sort."
Caroline nodded, she really didn't want to get into the politics of this city. Though it undoubtedly sounded fascinating, she just didn't have the time or the brain capacity to care for anything else. Selective murder. Or well, she didn't have a way of knowing if there was actual murder involved.
"Right, well-" One of the clearly more drunk bridesmaids made a deafening squeak, everyone inside the bar cringed, "well, that's a good rule, I guess." Rebekah nodded and they took a sip of their glasses simultaneously.
"You know, Caroline, I understand you're getting to see my brother in a different light right now. He's a dad, and he's finally reconciled with the fact that Hayley and he are similar enough to be best friends, and then he's also not daggering his family every chance he gets. But still, you shouldn't forget he's very much...Klaus Mikaelson, as in the type of person who likes to lead a group of volatile psychopaths and people who could end the world if they were organized enough." She took another drink, "Ignorance is not bliss, is what I'm saying."
Their eyes followed Paul momentarily as he hastily moved to throw the bachelorette party out. There were some wines from the drunken girls, but ultimately Caroline recognized Paul compelling them to leave. Very responsible of him, she thought.
"I know that," her statement came out slightly defensive, and with this Rebekah had enough to ask the obligated follow up.
"Do you, though?" Caroline tried to suppress a wince, "Because I know this morning I made it sound like I was taking sides, Nik's to be precise, but I'm really not. I mean, you have a family, and that ring, and that man my mother found expendable enough to send in a suicide mission once."
"Alaric. His name is Alaric," she clarified, for once. She figured that she'd had enough with people going around mentioning his name to her, as if she didn't think of what she was considering betraying him for every single hour that transcurred. She finished her drink in one gulp, and signaled the waiter to bring her another. "I think he was your teacher too for a time."
"Oh, love, if I'm being honest, I forgot who he was the minute he was out of my sight. I had other things to concern myself with at the time." She shrugged, finishing her -it looked like scotch, possibly bourbon.
"Yes, your crazy mother and the decade dance, no?" They both smiled. "And I do know, Rebekah, that sometimes Klaus can be the absolute fucking worst-"
"He really can." The man in the table next said, rather loudly. Caroline scoffed.
"Do you mind?" She barked at him, and the man just threw his hands up as in surrender, going back to his own conversation. "God- well, you see, I'm not lying comfortably in ignorance, I've seen what he's capable of. And yet, I can also see he's changed, and he's someone worth giving a chance to."
There was a small silence, and Caroline suspected more than just the annoying table neighbor was listening in. So she let her face fall into her hands and failed to thank Paul for the drink when he came.
"He's not changed that much, really. But- I guess I can see why it would be enough." Rebekah paused. "It is enough, actually. Can I ask you something?"
Caroline lifted her head from hiding and nodded. She saw Rebekah was no longer just amused with this conversation, but was actually pretty invested. That alone made her straighten on her chair again.
"You haven't been here long, yet you're already considering...Nik. And that, it makes me think- makes me wonder, why on earth did you get engaged in the first place?"
There was a collective sharp intake of air. Great, now she knew what it felt like to have her life being broadcasted. She tried not to glare in the general direction, and instead attempted to focus on the question at hand.
In truth, it didn't disturb her to hear it anymore- not like anyone had bothered to question this, so far, but she had asked it to herself more times than she cared to count. It was a very solvable enigma, which she thought stripped the term of its actual meaning. No matter, it did trouble her that not so long ago, she had been fairly certain of her reasons; they'd been logical and they'd been thought out. Not thoroughly, she could admit, but that wasn't an adjective she would give many things in her life. And despite all this, she found she came up empty when she tried to answer Rebekah.
She thought of the Patrick that voice had mentioned earlier. Yes, Patrick in Painswick, with his nine to five advertising job and his love for improv. She tried to imagine her life with this person, after the war and all; maybe Patrick had an unparalleled wisdom and could tell her what to say. Maybe, if she ever had the time she could go visit and find out.
She realized she'd stayed quiet for long enough, and decided for the only thing that came to mind. "Because it made sense, Rebekah."
"Okay," she nodded, "and why is that?"
It wasn't something she'd ever thought she would be doing in the future when they'd met, but she felt brave enough to open up to Rebekah Mikaelson and a bar full of vampires. "Josie and Lizzie, they deserve to have a family. A good family, with love and laughter and a sense of what commitment is. Without issues that come from being thrown around the country by their parents, who obviously hate each other because they're not together." She paused and shrugged, "Besides, we already live in the same house."
Rebekah blinked at her, and then turned sideways to the people who were openly staring now too. Someone in the back said something along the lines of she should see my therapist, he's really very good. And then the original had apparently gathered enough will to respond.
"Well, that is...that is so aggresively stupid, I'm not even sure I can sympathize anymore, Caroline." She made a gesture for Paul to bring more drinks, then, "No, just bring the whole bottle."
"Excuse me?" She gasped. "I'm-"
"I get it, okay," she continued, as if Caroline had said nothing and wasn't looking at her, extremely offended, "You probably think I don't because I haven't the bundles of joy to experience this myself. But, fine, say you get married to Alaric, which by the way, why, but anyway, say you get married. Fifteen years later, what, your twins will be so greatful their mother went insane because she was so insipidly unhappy with their utterly boring and forgettable father?"
"Very true," someone said, by the bar.
"Do you honestly believe that will be the case? That your daughters will be better off because you sacrificed your feelings for a normal family." Paul came with the bottle then, giving Caroline a pointed look that told her he very much agreed with Rebekah. "But guess what, you can't have a normal family. None of us can, least of all your children. Their mother is a vampire, who got pregnant with them because of some fairly invasive emergency spell. And their father used to be a vampire too, only he got it reversed by way of who the fuck knows," she took a breath and gave a glare to the raised eyebrows around them, "everyone relax, it's not contagious." Everyone did relax. "And then there's their own supernatural inheritance, Caroline, I mean, you're protecting the unprotectable here."
"So what then?! I'm supposed to just let them have the crappy life they're supposed to have? Don't I get to make any effort at all to prevent it?" She snapped, she positively did. She wasn't crying, because she refused to let herself cry in public, but she definitely felt like it; instead, she grabbed the bourbon from the table and poured herself more than was ever socially acceptable.
When she finished the contents of her glass twice, she felt Rebekah put a hand over her shaking one, "That's the thing, they don't have to have awful lives like ours. And you should make an effort for them, of course, that wasn't my point. I just think, well, a marriage in which both parties involved are miserable, will only make them miserable too. You see? And obviously, they need both their parents there for them, always, and I'm sure they'll get them. They'll get all those things you say you want for them; but also, your girls deserve a happy mother too, don't you think?" She smiled, "Sometimes, there's no need to sacrifice anything, Caroline."
"It's just- well-" she tried to start, but felt like her voice was failing; Rebekah squeezed her hand with hers. "I want them to be happy so much, I don't even care if I am at some point, you know. It's difficult and it's painful, but I feel like, for them, it's all worth it."
She'd not even noticed when the eavesdroppers had politely gone back, or rather, started to ignore them altogether. Perhaps they had finally realized this was personal, and this wasn't something they should've concerned themselves with in the first place. And Caroline was silently grateful when she felt no eyes on her and heard no offhand comments about her problems.
"I know a lot about being selfless, Caroline, even when it wouldn't seem so. And this, what you were or are considering doing for your girls is selfless and admirable in a way, but like I said it's also-"
"Aggressively stupid?" Caroline recalled, with a smirk she wasn't sure she meant. Rebekah chuckled.
"I'm impulsive with my words, you know that, but yes, something like that. I mean, didn't the doppelgänger or the all-mighty witch raise some similar questions?" Caroline bit her lip as Rebekah poured more liquid into their glasses.
"Actually, we never really talked about it. You were right earlier though, when I told them they were- somewhat very fine with it, I guess. They do like him, a lot; he's like some sort of father figure to Elena and her brother-"
"And she was fine with you marrying him?" Her question came with several connotations, but all in all Caroline could read them on her suddenly revolted face. "That seems- seems rather," she started laughing, but caught herself, "I'm sorry. That seems very off, Caroline, even for your incestuous group, really."
Caroline started laughing too, though she hoped it was the alcohol's fault more than anything else. "I don't know, I guess dating ancient vampires in our teens shifted our perspectives somehow." She took another giant gulp of her drink.
"It's different," Rebekah stated, very certain. "We freeze over at a certain age, or it kind of feels like it. As in, I'm forever nineteen, and you- seventeen?" Caroline nodded, and Rebekah tilted her head, as if furthering her point with the motion. "Yet, your professor isn't, and even if he was he'd be frozen over at thirty-something. Believe it or not, there's a factual age difference we originals do consider. I don't know about everyone else, though."
Caroline pursed her lips in thought, and then nodded, as it made a lot of sense to her, even if sober it probably wouldn't. "That makes a lot of sense actually," she said anyway, and then for once, she was the one to seek the vampires on the table next, "What do you think?"
The man, maybe now more an unwanted confidante, turned with a smirk and so did his friends. "You can't marry your friend's father, C," he said, "I'm sorry, you just can't." And she laughed again.
Soon after, they had joined tables with the consequenceless gossips in the bar, and Caroline had been drunk enough to ask Rebekah for help with her own surprise birthday party. To which Rebekah promptly said, "Yes, definitely the caged dancers, Caroline. Inspired is what it is."
/
Elena left her phone on top of the bathroom sink as she stared at herself in the mirror. There were a lot of things that were wrong with her reflection. For one, she looked like she was thirty, and not twenty-three, which was a very troubling thing to consider. Second, her eyes remained glazy, even though she hadn't cried or felt like it for a solid three days; perhaps it'd become permanent on her. And third, but not less important, she didn't look angry anymore, or sad; there was a nothingness in her face she couldn't quite shift, try as she might.
She'd received an email the day before, from Whitmore, graciously letting her know that she had officially failed all of her senior classes due to the fact that she had also failed to attend her final exams. Well, she supposed, following her boyfriend and his kidnappers across state limits had taken precedent in her life. And the thing was, regarding her studies and consequent career, she couldn't care less about it at the moment.
Lucky Caroline and Bonnie, who'd had nothing to drop when the storm came to town. Or well, no, that wasn't even true, in the least. Caroline had her daughters and her engagement; Bonnie her internship and then, of course, there was Enzo, who hadn't exactly been dropped, but had done the dropping himself.
She wondered, very briefly, of where he was right now. Also, if he would ever come back, destination being here or Mystic Falls. That wasn't so important.
She left the bathroom and the mirror before she could become more utterly depressed with herself. And, depressed, that was a word she had toyed around with for some time now, practically her whole life. The difference with it, between now and then, was that then she'd had people and those people had been carers; now, unfortunately, those same people were caring for themselves, or at the extreme, trying not to drown as well.
Adulthood hadn't been a joyous ride for Elena or her friends.
She'd skipped seeing Damon today, actually hadn't thought about it until it was well past noon and her window of opportunity had come and gone. But the nothingness had been there too, and so she'd laid comfortably, feeling nothing for another hour or two. She very much hoped her boyfriend was fine; she had tried to talk to both Klaus and Elijah about letting him out, but obviously with no favorable outcome.
Ah, yes, Elijah had stopped by very soon after Caroline had left, to where, she didn't know and didn't think to ask either. But the oldest Mikaelson brother had come looking for her friend, in fact, with a check to pay for a party, he'd said. She'd asked, do you want to come in then, and he'd said, no no thank you I have a meeting to push on someone. Then he'd left, and Elena had dropped the check on the counter without wondering about it in depth.
Caroline had said something about planning a party the other day, before their fight, vaguely as she did, Elena hadn't thought much of it. Bonnie had only kept eating, but had given Caroline a secretive type of knowing look.
She sighed, plopping down on her twin bed and curling against a pillow. She really wanted to go home, and even more, she wanted to wake up tomorrow to the fact that this had all been a dream, and that she didn't actually have to die as a part of some twisted deal. Wishing and wanting though, she had found very useless in the past, it was the same now.
She'd had the short-lived idea to act unhinged when she'd spoken with Klaus on the sidewalk. She'd supposed it couldn't really be that hard breaking someone out of those dungeons. There were chains, yes, but she could work with that, she'd thought. And there were tunnels, so going through the compound could be avoided; yet she had no idea where those tunnels led. Elena had made it through worse, with far less brilliant plans. However, not soon after, the urge had banished, because, well, for once she recognized her own impulsiveness.
Really, she may not trust the Mikaelsons one bit, but she did trust her friends, and they thought the originals were being truthful with their promise. So, if they really would let Damon out, and all she had to do was put her life in the very capable hands of her best friend's magic, she would do it. Why make this harder for everyone, right?
She found she had steady logic on her side, and that was enough.
Bonnie had said that it wouldn't take much longer, and that they were working exhaustively. She believed her, as her friend came home very late at night and very much tired out of her mind. So she was working for this to succeed, for Elena and Damon, she imagined. The trifecta of mutual best friends and all. Second best trio, in her mind, only to the forevermore E. B. C they had once carved in a tree somewhere back home.
She turned off the lights and got under the covers, and then she eyed the second twin bed beside hers. Caroline's. She'd had multiple fights with her friend over the years, some very childish, others very hurtful to think about still. But all in all, she knew that their relationship had grown way past drifting apart for the sake of just doing so. They would talk again, soon she hoped, and they would keep disagreeing on the subject, but ultimately, she expected when this was all over, Caroline would get her senses back.
Everything would be back to normal. Mystic Falls still awaited for them, and granted, she might have to go through another pre-med year, and have to wait to move, again, but she soothed herself with the knowledge that it would be another year with her best friends close by, and living with Damon in the boarding house.
So, if she put on these rose-tinted colored glasses, Elena felt tranquil enough to attempt sleep. And she closed her eyes, easing herself into the darkness and the odd quietness this city hadn't provided until just now.
The phone rang.
She jumped on her side, feeling her heart quicken at the interruption. Elena rolled over and tried to locate her phone on the nightstand. She dropped it first, but very quickly got a hold of it. Her eyes squinted at the intrusive light before she pressed talk.
The voice on the other side was extremely familiar, and it brought her back to life.
/
Title comes from the song by the same name from The Orwells.
I hope you enjoyed this one, I had a lot of fun writing it. Bit of a cliffhanger there, so the next chapter should provide a lot of answers. Thank you so much for the comments and the support, I hope this story lives up to you expectations. Lots of love.