She got a bit of chill running down her spine. It was cold out, and she finally made peace with the fact that she could no longer feel temperatures as humans do, but that she could experience them better than any of them. No need for envy; no need for the longing for something that so pointedly had been, and could no longer be.
She was a vampire.
She exhaled.
Caroline Forbes, promising golden girl and Mystic Falls' sweetheart; dedicated student and prominent figure of their small town's beautification committee; mother and gossiped lover, was a vampire.
And it felt good to know none of those things were mutually exclusive. It felt fantastic knowing she could add more to the list without diminishing its value or its genuinity.
It was cool out on the balcony. Morning had come and gone quickly, and impossibly straightforward. She'd given her workers a half-day off on account of the grey clouds in the sky. Earlier it seemed it would start to rain, and she'd never felt more at a cross concerning New Orleans' weather. It was both everywhere and nowhere. Still, even with the workload for the day split in half, she thought they were ahead of schedule.
Today, much to her detriment, she'd been informed Klaus had been gone from the house before sunrise. Hayley had told her so with a somewhat pitying smile. Caroline had been looking at the door every couple of minutes in search of incomers for the rest of the early morning; all she had found was the distinctive lack of Elena coming for Damon, and also the other Mikaelsons' comings and goings.
It would be a terrible day indeed when she understood the dynamics of this family in its entirety. They walked around each other like strangers in their house, but then she'd seen them care deeply too. She supposed she wasn't really acquainted with the amount of work it took to just be them, and still want to be a family.
Caroline thought, maybe, Klaus would want to talk about Kol?
As it turned out, it didn't rain, which meant she had willingly sabotaged her to-do list rather uselessly. The apartment was empty again; Bonnie long gone to the bell tower and Elena gone- somewhere. She had to be somewhere, because if not then it would mean she had ceased existing somehow, and then that would mean Caroline had lost her chance at reconciliation.
It bothered her a little that the prospect seemed not to bother her at all.
Granted, not in the sense that her lack of communication with her friend was in any way, shape or form, appreciated. No, it was more like she felt their friendship, and therefore their hearts would always and irretrievably be in a good place concerning one another. Caroline knew it wasn't wise to treat your friends as if they'd always be there, still she couldn't help it when it came to both Elena and Bonnie. Maybe Matt too.
She sniffed, Matt the policeman, or was it sheriff already? If he'd been invited to this particular adventure, she was sure he would've already managed what Elena had not. That is, finding a way to turn the originals against them in a town where they held all the cards. Matt liked to account himself as above it all, and grounded as they came, but he was very much not. She missed him too, not that he'd made much of an effort lately, but somehow he still made her list.
Another frosted breeze made her recoil into herself; sometimes she wondered if she imagined these things. What with the sun still out and all. But then she looked down to the street, and some people were wearing coats, so she supposed she wasn't fully insane yet.
Her fingers squeezed the railing tighter. She eyed the flowers growing by the edges of the house across the street without permission; the ivy extending around it seemed to go on forever. She licked her lips as she looked down at her hands, the daylight ring on her right was proudly looking back, as if it knew of its consequenceless stay. On the left, the small diamond practically challenged her back with its glow.
It was a nice ring. No matter what Rebekah Mikaelson had to say about it, her tastes were far too flashy, as Caroline had come to learn anyway.
Alaric had sent pictures of the twins refusing to eat their breakfast today. They had made Caroline particularly emotional, though still, not enough to make her want to quit. Because, she thought, that what she was doing was something of which she could politely step down from if she really wanted to. She had an exit, and Klaus had said the ring was the key.
She let her fingertips play with the thing for a moment or two, as if accommodating her mind with the fact that it was nothing delicate or unapproachable. Just a piece of jewelry. For the time being, she decided it would be just that. Not a promise, not a reminder, not an out.
It was unexpectedly freeing.
And perhaps she owed it to somebody else to make it so too. It couldn't possibly be fair that she'd had all this time to ponder and go around the point, when across states, Alaric had had no choice but to sit around and wait for some imaginary manacles to be removed. The conversation she wanted to have with him was unavoidable, yes, but it was also something deeply personal and something she knew had to be executed in person. No matter, it wouldn't be the worst to just loosen his collar a bit for the remainder of the week, no?
She swallowed when she got her phone out of her pocket. By some strange working of the universe, she felt her hands sweat too. Caroline focused her hearing to the other side of the street and shut her eyes lightly, as if all she was doing was enjoying the fresh wind on her face.
Almost as if she could go through the rooms in her mind, she inspected the sounds within them. No voices, no heartbeats, no breathing. She thought she heard a telling banging on something, but it was only the several windows and doors fighting and giving in to the breeze. Downstairs, she could hear chains clank.
She opened her eyes, strangely disturbed. She had yet to see Damon since that day on the roof, and Elena had mentioned something from time to time about his health. Maybe, the worst thing about disagreeing with Elena on what had to be done and what had to be restrained in this situation was made worse by the fact that Caroline could also understand her counterarguments.
Still, remaining neutral would help no one. It certainly wouldn't help herself.
A deep breath, and then she was able to click on the call button with complete certainty that nobody would be overhearing. The people walking by on the streets grew even more so irrelevant as she heard the beeping continue. She watched the day go by unflinchingly on some faces; she wasn't sure if she could bear the tranquility anymore.
She'd given it a go before, hadn't she? And all she cared to recall about its unwanted side effects was an attractive man squirming in the alley, and then a perfectly unsuspecting girl in the campus parking lot. At least now, the last thing she thought about were her cravings, being more than satisfied with the blood supply gifted to her by the Mikaelsons. And she hadn't even had to ask for more since she got here.
It was a rather obvious sign that she tended to thrive on stress and uncertainty. That she didn't mind safe and steady, but she'd much rather be accosted by its opposites any day.
Troubling, really, but true, and consequently, real as well.
The beeping stopped, she felt like she had been swallowed by the air until she heard a voice. The way in which she immediately straightened was almost entirely due to the fact that she had no idea why she had called, or what she was about to say. It, ironically, reminded her of the times she had to give a presentation in his class and had no clue of what the subject even was about. She'd stand as if a ruler had been stuck to her spine, babbling on about inaccurate historical events with all the confidence of someone who'd been out the night before hunting evil with her teacher and her friends.
Alaric did never dare to fail any of them, even when their disinterest in schoolwork got ridiculous. "It's not cute anymore, guys." He would tell them, throwing back drinks with Damon, while standing over some random greying corpse.
"Caroline?" Ric's voice, for the second time.
She did like him once, immensely, as a friend. That was the only reason she had agreed to be his magical surrogate in the first place, she recalled. Because she had once thought Alaric Saltzman was a man who had gone through hell and back and he deserved some semblance of happiness. Caroline had given up a lot to help, but she did so without a complaint because Alaric had been her friend, who'd on more than one occasion saved her life and her friends' without asking for anything back.
Evidently, it had gotten out of hand. She saw that now.
"Hey, Ric." She said, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear and smiling. Suppose it did make a difference when she decided to call him instead of being assaulted by never ending buzzings of her phone.
"What's wrong?" He suddenly sounded agitated, as if he'd gotten up really fast. "Are you hurt?"
It did pain her that his mind went there so fast when she called him. As if she could only do that when she needed something or was in imminent danger. She knew that if that was the case, Alaric would find a way to be here as soon as he could. All guns and crossbows and terrible self-serving instincts. He would probably get himself killed if this hypothetical ever came into reality.
He did deserve better. Not that he was a saint, a scoffingly no on that one. But he did, unsurprisingly, deserve better.
"No, no, I'm fine. I promise." She pressed her chin to her knuckles. "Everything is great."
She heard him relax, literally. Heard his lungs exhale and unwind. His heartbeat slowed, and his nails undig. His feet shifted on their carpet, but she supposed that was more to force his limbs to unclench. The sound of the stress leaving his body almost made her spit out a warning.
Not so soon. Not so fast. It was bitter.
"Great?" He repeated, with the ghost of a laugh. Then, casually: "Have you seen Damon yet?"
A cruel reminder that she had, in fact, not. But that was hardly her fault anyway, as only Elena was allowed to visit. This, she imagined, had probably been a paranoid safety measure of Klaus, in like to avoid a revolution, love. Then, she remembered that Damon and Alaric had once been close friends, and they'd had a fallout on account of Damon's inherent nature. But yet, she was also aware neither one of them had ever stopped caring, no matter time and circumstances, much as they'd like to deny it.
"Uhm, no, actually. Only Elena has access." She said, and the distinct sound of chains made her grimace. She covered her free ear with her palm for a second, until it had the desired effect of suppressing her abilities. "I'm sure he's fine."
He made a sound that was meant to be agreeable, but it was more of a grunt to her ears. Caroline knew him better than most would think. She wanted to make a list of the things she knew about him, as if suddenly the knowledge would leave her, like she wasn't worthy enough to hold it.
"I talked to her the other day," he revealed, and Caroline felt her chest tighten. Was this conversation pre or post disagreement- fine, fight?
"You did?"
"I did," he paused. "She's...not well, Caroline. She's sad, and resigned, and I don't care what she told you, but she does not want to die again."
"It's not-"
"I know, it's not permanent. But you and I know, death takes a toll on you, even if it's just for a couple minutes." He cleared his throat. "We've talked about this too, remember? What it feels like to have to come back, like- like you're trapped inside your life-"
"I know." Caroline closed her eyes again as she felt an ache on her throat. "I remember, I just, I guess I didn't know Elena felt like that. We haven't exactly been on the best terms lately."
It was the same thought she'd had while Bonnie threw dresses on the floor yesterday, what started hurting her so much. Elena would die, would be actually dead for a number of seconds, minutes, hours, and all Caroline had the capacity to stress about was a ring.
When she took her friends for granted it wasn't because she didn't love them, it was because she had comfortably fallen back in a feeling that was, perhaps incorrectly, assumed to be incondicional. Maybe Elena had other views on friendship, had other workings. It was very telling that she had chosen to speak to Alaric instead, and Caroline couldn't blame her for it. She understood, again.
"Yeah," he said, "she mentioned that."
Ah, so their talk had been post-fight. She let out a sigh, not knowing what he'd heard or if he was angry. As it was, Alaric was being uncharacteristically nonchalant about her calling and not addressing the multiple times she'd declined his calls over the last couple of days. She wondered if he was taking his time to prepare, just as she was.
"Did she tell you why?" Caroline ventured to ask, figuring the sun would set soon and she'd been standing in this spot for hours without anything progressing in the slightest.
She needed movement. And the house across the street was being eerily quiet and unobtrusive, save for the clanking she was ignoring. She needed crashing. Much like the way Hayley's smile had unsettled her in the morning, and the way Klaus' relieved give of air hadn't given her rest all night.
Collusion.
"She did, but it wasn't very surprising, Caroline, if I'm honest." His tone was calm. He chuckled. "When she told me what you said to her, I thought, I've heard this before. Years ago, weeks ago. I've heard it."
"And…"
"You defending the Mikaelsons is, by now, a given," he said, voice tired. "I just hope you don't forget that the excuse you've been feeding me for weeks is actually the reason and purpose you're still in New Orleans. Or has that changed?"
She blinked. The shadows from the railings and the plants were unrefined, but they were also unmoving. That gave her stability, as she felt the floor had been pulled out from under her feet. Caroline was floating between asking, or skipping over his own question. Deflecting or confronting.
Neither. "What?"
He sighed, and she felt the intensity shift somewhere along the line. "Before you left, you said you had to go to protect your friends. I agreed, and I asked you to make me a promise you did not keep. Yet, you kept saying you had to stay longer, that you were the only one who could help protect Bonnie and Elena." She bit her tongue, and her knuckles turned white around something she couldn't be bothered to name. "Your excuse has always been the notion that you could be the only one capable of protecting, of helping. Then Elena calls me, and she's a wreck, and she's lonely and scared to death- and you're planning a party."
It somehow got colder outside, yet she couldn't move from her spot. Like all her energy had been knocked out of her. Her mouth made no motion to speak, because, really, what could she say that didn't come out frivolous and neglecting?
Elena had been in their shared bedroom for the majority of the days since their arrival. Had only gone out to see Damon, then back to maybe and occasionally have dinner with her friends. But otherwise not a thing. Caroline had just gotten bored of doing nothing but escorting her friends to and from anywhere. Then she'd gotten distracted, but at no point had she even considered any of her friends really, actually needed saving.
At last, she heard herself repeating, "I'm planning a party." As if she'd just now realized that was what she was doing. Missing a half day's work on setting up lights and stages had nagged at her more than not knowing where Elena was at the moment.
A droplet of something hit her cheek, and it startled her. Caroline looked up to the sky, only to find it stinged her to do so. The sun was there still, the light; the clouds had been gone for hours thanks to the still present wind. No, it wasn't rain, it was a tear.
She brushed it away with the sleeve of her jacket. Nobody had the time for this. And it made her suddenly angry that she was crying, like the martyr she had no right to be playing. Her friend needed her and Caroline had been elsewhere. Still, why did she even have to choose?
Again, she could add to the list, good friend and gifted party planner. She could add too: optimistic about the future, unapologetic about her heart's predilections. And once more, none of it had the nerve to be exclusive in its own meaning.
Alaric sighed, breaking the silence. "Just- be honest with me, Caroline."
And at last a request she could, indeed, color into reality.
"I'll talk to Elena. I'll- I'll be there for her." She started. Knowing Ric probably didn't need to hear more of her promises, likely finding them all empty at this point. But she did need to hear herself say it, just to ease the pressure on her ribs for the afternoon, at least.
"Good." He allowed, but she understood he was impatient. "So?"
It didn't take as long to gather the courage as she had imagined. When she decided on her course of words, they almost flew out of her. And at times she suppressed the need to check she was actually still thinking and had not inadvertently turned off her otherwise very logically-bound brain.
"I took my ring off yesterday," she started, and she heard him inhale very sharply. "And maybe you think I got something out of it, right? Like maybe Klaus was so over the moon about it we actually ran away together or something?" She snorted to herself. "But despite what you may think by now, it was not- it has not been like that. As it turns out, Klaus practically had a panic attack when he saw I wasn't wearing the ring. I told him I took it off to do the dishes or some such bullshit, and we both knew it was a lie. I took it off because some things started feeling more right than wearing that ring."
"Caroline," He uttered her name like it was a plea, begging of some kind for her to stop. She would not.
"No, wait, hear this. You wanted me to be honest, and so I'll be honest, Ric. This is not simple, so please, listen to me until I'm done." She didn't wait for his response, and she pushed off the railing, no longer needing something to lean on. "I'm wearing it right now. I put it back on, because somehow I always end up patronizing everyone else but me. And the thing is, I don't mind it, I like it, I like helping. It's not torture, it's a reward. Ric, I wasn't lying when I told you I came here to help, and I'd like to think I have, maybe not in the way you've imagined but I have made a difference."
She took a breath. Her eyes were out of focus because of the moisture she had not ridded herself of entirely. Caroline reminded herself that even if that house across the street remained permanently empty, and even if its owner decided to have gone out this morning before she got there, and never come back, this would still be a speech she would be making.
"I gave up my life, Ric, honestly. When did you ever imagine I would end up going to committee meetings twice a week and learning which fucking kind of brocoli is not the best for toddlers, and be fine with just that? And I love being a mom, I love it, I could not see myself any other way now. But then, that was all I was, suddenly. I still don't remember what I wanted to do before that, not sure if I even could anymore." She gasped, and it bothered her more that she did. "I was losing control, Ric, back home. Before all of this, I was losing it. And through it all, I also felt like I was missing a piece of myself that I had no idea had been gone for so long-"
"Caroline-" he sounded wounded, damaged. She thought maybe they could have that in common.
"-I found it, Alaric. I got it back."
Silence. And it even seemed the wind had given pause to her, so stunned by her words it forced itself to defy logic. She focused on not moving for a moment, fearing that if she did, time would start ticking again, and the people on the street would continue their murmurs and cackles.
She'd had no idea of what she had wanted to say to him when she called. For someone like Caroline that had a lot to say; she who always came prepared, who somehow always knew the right thing to say. She'd trained herself to be polite and pleasant, words had to be at par with that. Yet, she knew she had been anything but, and that left an immense satisfaction in the back of her mind.
"Are you- are you trying to tell me Klaus was what was missing?" He asked this very slowly, tentative. In fear of the words more than the response itself.
Exasperated, she gasped out again, "No," god, "no. I don't need anybody to make myself whole, Ric, please understand that is not what this is about. I- he may have helped me, yes, but what I was missing has absolutely nothing to do with Klaus, or with you."
He swallowed. "What was it then?"
It choked her, everything did. It would make her look like an idiot if she could not, somehow, give him a one word answer. Concise and legitimizing her claims. Still, how could she ever narrow it down? All she had was a feeling to go by, and as indescribable as it was, she thought she could make another list.
It's hope, Ric. It's purpose. It's this feeling in my chest that tells me it's okay to go on and that I don't have to look back to know it. It's a spark. It's pain. It's love...
It's nothing and everything that had been missing. She hadn't been able to make out an outline before, a pattern, so how could she know what it was that filled it?
Could she be callous enough to make him aware of all the things that made this list, because then he would know he hadn't been providing them?
"I don't know." Maybe the truth would damn her, as advertised. "It's just there again."
Another pause. The silence felt lighter this time. She wondered where he was in their home; maybe his study, with the scattered bottles of bourbon and scotch. Maybe he was staring at his alt posters and framings with intent, as if to not lose focus. Maybe the twins were taking a nap and he'd gone in for a couple of hours of rest. Maybe not.
"Right," he cleared his throat. "Should I say I'm happy for you?"
She looked up at the sky again, and it stinged her eyes impossibly more so than the first time. Her phone was warm in her hand, her fingers twitched around it. She draped her free arm around her stomach.
"No, not if you don't mean it."
"Well-" he didn't say anything for a moment. "I'm not, and I wouldn't."
"I know."
"Can I say something?" The question wasn't so much blinding as it was slightly sarcastic on his part. Her lips pursed.
"Yes."
She'd never been quite good at holding herself back. As was probably obvious, a lot of the time she went with what instinct told her, no matter how straining her decisions became. Caroline knew, she owed it to him to listen as well, maybe take the unquestionable blow his words would bring as stoically as she could.
"I'm not an idiot, Caroline," he said, as if she honestly had to be convinced of this. "I'm not blind and I don't rejoice in lying to myself. When I asked you to promise me you'd come back, that you'd put us first, I did it because, perhaps unbeknownst to you, I do know you particularly well." He gulped. "This thing you say you've been missing, that thing you can't quite put your finger on? It's called conflict. And all of us, we're addicts. We all crave it, because we've been subjected to it for years on end. The thing is though, Caroline, you have to move on from it, you have to realize it's not a part of you, it's just a parasite you've become accustomed to."
She felt her hand shake on her stomach, and the cold breeze she'd been able to handle all day, suddenly became unbearable. She didn't move.
"And Klaus Mikaelson?" He continued. "He'll give you conflict all you want. He'll drown your life in it, if you let him. I'm sure he'll excel at it. That's all he's good for anyway." She felt something in her chest sinking, stung by the bitterness in his words. By the logic, by the way his jealousy almost uncovered a lethargic truth beneath it all.
"And I don't care what you've been doing, Caroline. If you let him kiss you...if he's touched you the way I never have, it's- I don't care if you took off my ring because some impulse struck you to make him happy. I don't care if you're wearing it now because it- it backfired?" His voice was ragged. She pictured the red in his eyes. "When I told you I love you, that wasn't a lie. It isn't. I've been here for you, Caroline, always. When Stefan left and you were broken, I was here. Your mom. The girls. You've been lost, and I've been helping find you. And I'm not saying this to throw it in your face, no, I'm saying this because I want you to see how much I don't care about what you've been doing there. All I care about is that you do come back, so we can finally start over." He paused. "So that we can finally leave all that conflict behind, and maybe, you'll see that all you've been taking for granted is what you've actually been missing."
She felt frozen. Muscles atrophied and heart barely beating anymore. Her lungs felt lacking of air, and everything was empty of substance for a second, maybe two. She remembered Rebekah saying that they froze over at a certain age, was that the thing it narrowed down to then? That she had, for all intents and purposes, died at seventeen and later just refused to grow up?
Were Alaric's words the truth, and then she'd been living life through flawed conceptions. She still felt like she was floating, out on the balcony and staring off into the streets she knew nothing of and eavesdropping into a house she had no claim of any kind to.
When she heard the click of a door opening, she nearly snapped. Reaching out to clasp the railing again in sudden panic, there was enough strength in her to turn around. Elena was there at the entrance, going through her own motions, not paying attention to the nearly collapsing frame of Caroline out in the wind.
"Ric, I-"
Elena looked up, and their eyes met. A friend she had taken for granted. And the turmoils in their eyes recognized one another with eagerness.
"No, don't. Think about it, Caroline." He huffed under his breath. "You have to be sure. So much as it annoys me, you have to see this for yourself."
She held Elena's gaze as she walked back inside. Her head felt like it had been shocked, repeatedly. His words danced around, and it was like hearing the chains clank again, fists colliding with the ground in desperation. Elena's eyes were red as well, and she leaned on the table in the middle of the room for support.
They watched each other like reflections in a mirror.
"Okay," she muttered to the phone.
"I'll call tomorrow, for the twins. So, please, pick up, yeah?"
She nodded, couldn't even fathom he couldn't actually see her and distanced her ear from the phone quickly. It ended back inside her pocket, or maybe the floor. But she couldn't look away from Elena.
"What happened?" She asked first. Her friend looked like she could barely manage breathing, doubling over.
"Nothing," she said, almost wheezing out the words.
"Elena, what's wrong?" The strength of her tone came out of pure concern. Yet she felt even more weakened by the sight of Elena like this.
Her brown eyes looked up, livid. She was paler than Caroline had ever seen her. Elena looked down again, panting and attempting to get a hold of herself.
"Nothing," she repeated, this time steadily. But then, a moment later, her knees were buckling and her grip on the table was loosening.
Caroline sped to her and caught her in a heartbeat before she fell. She was like a doll in her arms, limp and lifeless. Her eyes no longer fired up, but just barely held on to consciousness. Then she looked up and down her friend's body, in that hoodie that she'd worn yesterday, and was not hers but maybe Hayley's. Her wrists and arms were hidden from sight, still she caught a trace of dried blood coming from them.
In an instant she was on the floor, with Elena's head on her lap. Her eyes were rolling back on her head. Caroline could hear herself panic, muttering out words and small cries while she tried to get Elena to react, to snap back.
She grabbed her arm and rolled up the sleeves of the hoodie. Yes, there was blood, dried and distant. No wound. Not a slash or a bruise. Elena's skin was perfect, pristine and glowing. Even with the confusion, she felt her heart slow down; she wasn't hurt.
Not physically. Not critically.
She didn't need saving yet.
"Elena, talk to me, what happened?" She looked back to her friend's face; the focus and the sanity had returned to her eyes in a second.
Elena's breathing eventually controlled, and she blinked at Caroline several times as she took air in and out. Her brows furrowed when she seemed to register she was on the floor, and that Caroline was practically sick with worry just looking at her.
After a moment, she struggled to sit up; Caroline helped her. Trying to figure out this on her own even if Elena decided she didn't want to talk. But then, the answer she did give, was as unhelpful or even more so than silence would've been.
"I don't remember."
/
When Bonnie got home, she was first surprised on account of her neighbor, who none of them had ever met before. She was a beautiful, tall woman who looked to be in her thirties. Pale, as if the sun hadn't touched her in years, or presumably only wearing too much makeup. Her hair long and bleached to the point of exhaustion. And she offered her a smile in passing.
When Bonnie turned back on the stairs to give her one last look, the woman had stopped as well, tipping a finger up. She made a sound, like a hum or a squeal or something ambiguously in between.
"Ah, excuse me," she pivoted to the stairs, but halted, when she saw Bonnie hadn't left. When her surprise banished, the woman allowed a smirk.
"Yes?"
"Well, see, it's probably none of my business, but- earlier, your friend- roommate?" Bonnie nodded, unsure of the importance in clarifying anything. "Yes, your roommate then. I was just stepping out earlier too, had to run some errands and-" she paused, frowning at the stairs under Bonnie's feet. She hesitated.
"My roommate?" Bonnie urged, now incurably curious, and suspicious as well. After all, they'd been staying in this building for a while now, coming and going at all hours and yet, this supposed neighbor had never manifested existence in any way.
Nothing. And she looked quite frail as well, Bonnie noted.
The woman cleared her throat and looked up again. "Yes, well I came back, you know, I was tired as you won't believe- and I saw her, your roommate, talking to a man, fighting more like...and it hardly seemed any of my business, so I, of course waited, didn't want to interrupt."
Bonnie pursed her lips as she breathed in and out heavily. Her mind still unclear, it could've been any number of things, no? Caroline having a bickering session with Klaus, though who even knew if they even indulged in those anymore. Caroline with Kol, arguing over something supremely irrelevant and event planning related. Or it could've been Elena-
"And then," the woman continued, "the man left, he looked- hm, well, he looked unstable. And your roommate, she didn't look quite alright, yes? She was barely able to open the door herself, and then I offered to help her up the stairs but she refused, and well, she could barely make it up the stairs as well."
Bonnie blinked, feeling as though her body had been drained of pulse.
"So yes," she said, "just wanted to check in, see if she's fine. And if not then," the woman paused, looking over her shoulder to the door, the street as busy as any other night. "To tell you to look out for her, maybe, change the locks, you know, for that man of hers."
The apparently vigilante neighbor left without waiting for anything resembling a response. And then Bonnie forced herself up the stairs, already immensely tired from her day of keeping Marcel Gerard from tearing his own organs out. Then, of attempting to calm Vincent down when he failed to make fairly straightforward blood magic work, and now- this.
When she got to the top of the staircase, she looked down the hall to their door, and on the front of it waited a quite sophisticated looking arrangement of flowers. She narrowed her eyes at it from the distance, her nerves drowning with a sense of distrust coming directly from the conversation she'd just had. Or more like that woman's nervous monologue, than anything.
She picked it up, and eyed the pretty pink and red and white of the flowers. On a plastic stick, stood out a card, and without thinking she plucked it away and started reading.
After a second, she rolled her eyes, feeling her breathing even out, as so clearly this was just a pathetic attempt for an apology, and not a more maniacal plot to hurt her or her friends.
When she managed to open the door, with her fingers still shaking, she was bewildered to find the living room and kitchen empty. She left the flowers on the table, and carried the card with her to deliver it to Caroline.
Attempting a calmness of mind she was not currently experiencing, Bonnie walked through the hallway, and said, "Hey Care, guess who just tried to buy your affections for the hundredth time?"
No response, not that she expected any, even if she hadn't heard their neighbor's perspective of events. The sound of voices and hushes stopped her at Caroline and Elena's room, she went for the knob. It was locked. She knocked.
"It's an apology I think," Bonnie kept going, as if everything was fine and not eerily stripped of logic. "Were you going out with him today?"
She knocked again.
And then, from the end of the hallway, a door opened and Bonnie snapped her head quickly to it. Feeling the magic on her fingernails, as if begging to defend itself. But no, no need just yet.
Caroline stood on the frame to Bonnie's bedroom. Her face flushed, and eyes temptingly red. She'd been crying, or she'd been trying not to, Bonnie couldn't decide.
She gave the door in front of her a weary glance, and then walked slowly over to Caroline. She raised a brow in question.
Caroline took the card from Bonnie when she offered it, but didn't even read it. Klaus' apology for- whatever seemed to be the last thing on her mind.
"What happened?" She finally ventured to ask, and Caroline shut her eyes for a moment. Then she turned around and Bonnie followed after her inside her own room.
"It's...unclear," Caroline said, with a raspy voice. Her back to Bonnie. "And what's even more so, it's who we can trust to help us with it."
/
Klaus had never actually seen any of his sisters lose their stability quite as often as in the last few weeks. And he, perhaps accurately, thought maybe it was his fault that they both seemed to resemble him more than ever in their lives: all paranoid and restless.
Or maybe- maybe they were finally growing up, no? Maturing, as it were, from his perspective, had always come with more a shift in wording then actual behavior. As in, how whining became angsting, and therefore, an action less mortifying to patronize.
Well, now he had truly and deeply seen for himself the extent of their nerve-wracked minds, he thought. Definitely, because now he sat by the uneven flooring of the dungeons that comfortably provided something akin to an actual chair, as he watched Rebekah tear out the vampire's liver for the third time with no favorable outcome.
"Shall we see if it grows back faster this time?" She asked, to no one in particular. Though the nameless vampire remained in a constant state of agony and screaming since about- he checked his watch- seven in the evening.
Yes, in hindsight, he probably shouldn't have let this go on for as long as it already had, seeing as now it was well-past midnight. Rebekah rolled her eyes at the pointed lack of begging, as it looked like she had made it her personal mission to get out at least a Please stop it from the man.
So far, they've gotten nothing. Not a word. So Klaus could also understand Rebekah's exasperation and consequent lack of restrain when it came to her unrehearsed torture tactics. And admittedly, they were far too gorey for even Klaus. For though, Freya not so much, apparently.
His older sister had only agreed to help because it had been Klaus who had asked for the favor of releasing the vampire in the box. She, Klaus thought, may have perhaps been under the impression that she owed him something- because of Hope, because of all of it. Klaus, on the other hand, had never made such delusions to himself, but upon watching the opportunity arise, he seized it.
And so, now Freya waited several feet away with them. He'd proposed she waited outside for them to finish with the interrogation. But her sister had been far too clever for own good and insisted on following them down to the basement -where she'd also boldly urged him to get rid of the redhead underneath the white sheet of fabric- and then the dungeons. Where, promptly, interrogation turned into torture.
"I thought you were supposed to keep him alive for the council," Freya had whispered after the first time Rebekah tore out some humanly vital organ from the man with excruciating slowness, knowing he could still hear her.
Klaus shrugged, looking bored as Rebekah had not yet gotten that thirsty look on her face. "I am. He's still breathing, isn't he? His skin looks dashingly un-grey to me."
Freya had given him a look, thought it was mostly empty of any negative emotion. He'd considered for a couple minutes, if she was being purposely careful around him. So, true, they hadn't yet talked about her careless theory regarding his daughter's blood, nor of the fact that he'd agreed to it in the end.
But then, he thought now, after all they'd gone through, he couldn't make peace with the idea of the possibility, the actual true and factual possibility that he could quit on his relationship with Freya. Seemed like, and truly, such a waste.
He'd talk to her, later. Yes, and he'd force Hayley too as well.
"So let's see," Rebekah drawled at the vampire they had chained to a chair, and who'd they also given a drop of blood to make him sufficiently functional and capable of answering questions, which he deliberately was not. "Should we experiment then? Test how long it takes for your leg to regrow?"
Klaus didn't hide his disgust. And, excuse him if he was appearing to be particularly hypocritical, but it had been a while since he resorted to doing such things as cutting out limbs and watching them regrow for fun. That had always been more of Kol's tune to begin with.
Freya flinched when their sister pulled out a kitchen knife. A butterknife, and then threatened to keep her promises with it as her tool of choice. He almost rolled his eyes when the vampire kept quiet.
And earlier too, as she turned into dust the bricks that had been keeping the vampire in place, Freya had asked, "Why can't you just compel him? Surely, if he'd been taking vervain, it's long gone now."
Klaus had nodded once, keeping his hands clasped on his back as the nameless vampire dropped to the floor, face first as he had been on the later stages of desiccating by now. "We tried, when Elijah first captured him. I drained him of his blood with-" he looked around, and then pointed to the opposite wall, "-that pitchfork."
The vampire on the floor had grunted eagerly as Rebekah had started teasing with the blood bag by his side. Klaus had scrunched his nose at him, and as he'd stepped over him, made sure to kick him on the ribs.
"So?" Freya had urged, thought still, gently.
"He still didn't answer. There are some who are immune to our compulsion, Freya, and frankly I've seen far more fascinating things-"
"There are?" She interrupted, gaping. He nodded.
"It's not outrageous, sister," Rebekah had confirmed, plopping a drop of blood from the bag on her finger and driving it closer to the vampire with a concerning focus. "Some people have done such a good job at convincing themselves of their moral superiority, that when faced with being parted with their insane viewings of the world...they just can't bear."
Klaus had nodded his agreement once more, but he'd hardly thought it was the best explanation to what was happening with this particular vampire. Strong-minded, sure, but morally superior? Not a chance. He was sure it was more of a hellish stubbornness that had heightened with his vampiric condition upon turning, and then only gotten worse over the centuries, as he so clearly was not a baby vampire. And then, that had turned into something of a superpower, he supposed, thus granting him immunity to their particularly aggressive compulsion.
But well, that was only a theory after all, as he did not see any other possible answer. But this, indeed, had made his suspicions concerning Rebekah's stalkers worsen.
Klaus blinked himself back into the present when Rebekah reached bone with her butterknife and instead of the expected screaming and seething, they got the first sign of progress all night. "No, stop." A heavy pause. "Please."
Klaus raised a brow, and Rebekah, maybe only because of her genuine surprise, did stop.
"Well," Rebekah smiled with all her teeth, "what's your name then, love?"
Freya was gaping as well, so clearly given up on hope of anybody disclosing important information since the beginning. But Klaus did catch her flinch at the happenings in front of them, and he considered if maybe he should insist she go out now before she saw what response did to a sadist.
The vampire sighed, throwing his head back in relief, but then he muttered, "I can't tell you." Huh, an accent, one Klaus had ridded himself of a couple hundred years ago, as it was decidedly more pompous than anybody had the energy for.
From the old world, he settled.
Klaus stood from his improvised seat, and took firm steps to stand beside his sister, who looked positively gone with that ridiculous knife dancing on her fingers. He stared at the vampire for a moment longer, fingertips tapping on his palm thoughtfully.
"Joining us, Nik?" Rebekah prompted, smiling. The vampire instantly shifted on the seat as he bobbed his head back down, eyes meeting with Klaus' in obvious distress.
"Oh, so you do know me then? Or my reputation, at least?" He asked, putting up a smile.
No answer, just a pair of narrowed eyes.
Klaus cleared his throat, "So maybe you've heard of me, yes? And here- you've already seen my sister's fondness with organ regeneration and-" he looked down at her hands pointedly, "-her fascination with silverware."
The vampire flinched, and Klaus spared a glance to the muscle that was, at the moment, magically taking a chance at growing back.
"Let me assure you," he continued, "that if you don't start speaking now, I'll make sure you'll be begging for Rebekah to take over."
And without so much as a warning, he proceeded to snatch Rebekah's butterknife from her fingers and buried it in the vampire's left eye. The scream that echoed in the dungeons was enough to make even Klaus startle. Then he gave Rebekah a smirk, to which she only rolled her eyes, and then he stepped away, kicking the man's almost severed leg, and made it, well not require the word almost.
Rebekah huffed, "I was getting to that, Nik. Your impatience astounds."
"Yes, well," he said, returning to his spot behind the chair; front row seat to this spectacularly deranged show. "speed it up, if you wouldn't mind terribly."
His sister sighed, and then nodded, relenting. He could've taken over hours ago too, if not for his exceedingly unwanted abilities for observation. Insight, or something like it. Because it occurred to him as he watched his sister make Damon Salvatore violently throw up two hours into the interrogation with her antics, that it had been a poorly made choice of sending Rebekah to fetch Freya from the bell tower.
Of course, he'd made it out later, that Rebekah had been subjected to the sight of Marcel as he was now. Barely human, mostly dead by now too. He swallowed down the vile when he conjured the mental image. And she'd had to see the man she loved like that, so clearly, what was going on in present, cutting off arms and whatnot, was merely her therapeutic way of regaining peace of mind.
So he allowed it. And Freya had made no comment of it so far, perhaps having arrived at the same conclusion.
"Who do you work for?" Rebekah asked the vampire, twisting the knife in his eye. Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose, as perhaps it would've been wise to make a list of pertinent and strategic questions first.
Of course, the vampire, minus an eye and a leg, chuckled. "Oh, no, gorgeous-" he hissed at the pain again, "that's not it. Try again."
Rebekah clearly hadn't been able to help her eyes widening and her lips pursing. Klaus looked on, intrigued for once, as he'd thought this vomiti inducing questionnaire would've been over with the first sign of pain. Obviously, this vampire had more of a conviction that he'd first thought.
"Fine," Rebekah spat, taking the knife from his eye and grinning when he started wheezing again. "how long have you been here, in New Orleans?"
Klaus searched for Freya's eyes then, who was looking back at him questioningly. So, was this going in the right direction? He couldn't say, honestly.
When the vampire hesitated for a minute too long, another peeling scream came out of him. Perfect, now Rebekah was playing with his intestines. Klaus waited for the sound of the Salvatore draining his own stomach from- whatever it was that he ate these days, but it never came. And he turned over his shoulder to find that he had, indeed, passed out from the graphics.
Klaus rolled his eyes. He was sure that being an immortal was all that Damon Salvatore had ever had going for him. As it was so evident he couldn't even manage a brief swim in the art of getting information.
Though, to be fair, he had profoundly advised Hayley to take Hope to visit Mary in the bayou for the night, with the detailed company of Elijah and her pack for safety. And this, without mentioning one bit of just why it was so important that they'd be gone. So, sure, he could see why this had the potential of being too much, or borderline unbearable.
So as it was, what he found disgusting wasn't the visual or even the action or its description. Torture. No, it was merely the lack of finesse with which Rebekah was handling this. Much too overtly messy for him, really.
Ah, the answer came at last: "Time, what an unviable construct." The vampire coughed, though still managed to say with an unfathomable confidence.
Maybe, he had a death wish. Klaus rubbed at his temples, feeling much like he did when he dealt with Kol, that is, before he had the daggers made and had had no choice but to endure.
Freya had almost fully relaxed against the wall, watching with a wistful expression and her arms folded on her chest. He watched her mouth at Rebekah, his name again. And he couldn't really fathom why it would make much of a difference to hold that single piece of knowledge, as surely, they couldn't honestly believe that man would be anything other than dishonest where he could manage it.
But okay. So Rebekah broke his nose, and then apparently also a couple of ribs and then Klaus was sure she had, at some point, tore some of his hair off.
And after Klaus had the honor, truly, of watching his sister decimate someone so viciously to pieces, came the nearly sobbing voice.
Still, with a smirk and a glazing eye, he said, "Cadmus." He spit the blood in his mouth to the floor. "My name is Cadmus."
As if he was presenting himself in front of a court. As if he was bowing in front of a king. As if he knew his name alone held some sort of weight that would inevitably grant him power.
Rebekah looked up from him, then shared a set of wary glances with Klaus and Freya. The three of them were vastly surprised to have gotten something concise, and which also had the possibility of being not a lie. The term true was nowhere near, Klaus was certain.
Then as if he'd been on top of this all along, the vampire gave a huff of a laugh, "See what you manage to make off it."
Klaus wasn't much too scandalized when Rebekah ended her staring contest with the vamp- Cadmus then, and swiftly slit his throat with her butterknife.
"Same time tomorrow then?" She asked, breathless, dropping the knife and waiting expectantly for a response.
Klaus shared a look with Freya, who shrugged at him. The both of them turned to nod dejectedly at their sister, but he clarified, "Earlier perhaps, we have other things to tend to, remember?"
So, if they were sufficiently lucky, in approximately twenty-four hours, Marcel would be linked to Klaus' power and given more time to be permanently saved. Klaus saw the glint in Rebekah's eyes at the reminder.
/
Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for your amazing comments and all the support, can't tell you how much I enjoy writing and sharing this story with you. I really hope you liked this chapter, we're getting closer to the ritual, so yeah lots of angst to come with it.